The day before the ceremony, Adeline raked leaves into a multi-colored mound on the Kinsey’s enormous lawn. Ezekial hovered nearby in anticipation. When she finished, Henry stopped his chores and helped her bind a rope to the willow’s strongest branch.
Continue reading “The Jubilee by Michael Barbato-Dunn”
(A Novel Excerpt) by James Hanna
Author’s Note
Gertie McDowell, a naïve young girl with a talent for misadventure, has joined a women’s wrestling troop called Christian Ladies of Wrestling. The troop was put together by Wanda Sue, a bank robber with a streak of religion whom Gertie met while serving time because she “trusted the wrong sort of fella.” The mission of the troop is to bring folks closer to Jesus by having women posing as Christians beat the sin out of women posing as transgressors. Gertie’s wrestling persona is Haystacks Holly, a lustful temptress who needs a good punishing. The troop also includes three runaway girls: Cocheta, an Apache girl with sleeves of tattoos, and Sofia and Mia, a pair of sinewy migrant workers.
Continue reading “Christian Ladies of Wrestling”
I drove a 1963 Flamengo-orange Thunderbird, wore navy blue tennis shoes, and sat eating a banana split at the A&W. It was 1986. In White Haven, Tennessee, where truck drivers were thought to be rich, it was still considered a big deal to go to the movies. Girls looked forward to losing their virginity in the back row at the Malco Theatre.
Continue reading “Shake or Float? By David Lohrey”
“Who among you will swear to devote his life to country and crown? Stand you then and be appointed.”
He had stood up on that solemn occasion, had been counted, and subsequently dishonored and disparaged by his entire country, which quickly had gone under a different rule.
Continue reading “Odyssey of a French Swordsman by Tom Sheehan”
Mama was in what Nana called “a manic phase.” She paced around the yard, cigarette in hand, while my brother and I waited for our father with her.
“Hey, Beth, you got a minute? I need your advice.”
“Greg, not really, however, I’ll always make time for a call from my ex-husband and the father of our children. First of all, you should move out of that horribly dangerous Oak Park place where you have domiciled my children. Apparently, the law enforcement thugs have a year-round open season on black people in Sacramento.”
Continue reading “The Talk Part Three – Driving While Black by Frederick K Foote”
My pal’s orange Datsun was riddled with bullet holes. The passenger door was a mess. There were between 12 and 21 spaces where the body shop mechanic had had to drill to knock out dents from the impact of an oncoming pickup. Rich could afford the holes but not the patches.
It shone over Hayfield, South Dakota, and George Angus ran his hand through straws of Hard Red Winter Wheat. Cream colored leaves. He used his hand to shield against the sun and fixed his eyes on the old oak tree upon the hill. Then down again. Frail dryness. Like the touch of Mary’s hand. He looked at his own hands, dry but not frail. Quite sturdy. Sharp lines, trenches from a working life. He ran his palm over his scruffy wide face.
literally stories 