“LEAVE ME ALONE!” Sandra Billingsley recognized the sobbing voice around the corner. Someone was picking on Karen — again, she thought. She slammed her locker door shut and ran around the corner to the hall where the freshman lockers were. (*)
TOM’S FIRST MEMORY: his mother kneeling in a ravine, shielded from the sun and other human beings, hunched over in a sing-song prayer. He came to know the chant well. She barely murmured it, but it comforted him as he lay quietly on his mat.
[A winter story to counter the summer heat. Enjoy!]
“DAVID!”
The curly-haired youth slammed the book shut and ran downstairs. His father had hitched the mule team to the wagon. A tall, Black slave about David’s age was loading the back. Isaiah Isaacs put his arm on his son’s shoulder. Continue reading
MARLENE DOWNSHIFTED and whipped the 1954 racing-green MG past a truck piled high with baled hay. She returned the farmer’s wave as she pulled away. With its running boards and big headlights, her new convertible was the ultimate in European styling and performance. Driving it usually made her spirits as light as the breezes on the Chesapeake Bay, which she had just crossed. But not today.
HELMUT TIGHTENED THE LAST BOLT, wiped his hands and pulled himself across the slimy floor. He imagined Carla’s firm skin covered with fresh engine oil and shook the thought from his head. Continue reading
JT Hine 