It’s not there anymore. It was only a short walk from the Chelsea Hotel to Eleventh Avenue. I loved that old saloon . . .
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
Gazing down at the farmhouses in the valley below, feeling the wind whipping against his face, Mr. Hawkins thought: I wonder if I’ll be able to breathe on the way down. . .
Rachel warmed her hands on the cup at my kitchen table. “Daniel came over last night,” she said. “You call the cops?” . . .
In four years William had read through countless declarations of affection and promises of riches, searching for the one. Here it was at last: the love he’d been waiting for . . .
Teammates on the Watertown High hockey team called them The James Brothers. James Rogers was a blue-eyed white teenager while James Brook was the only African American on the team. The two friends were inseparable and after high school graduation, they decided to hitchhike together across the USA . . .
We’re parked at the end of a long driveway. Pristera wags a finger at me. “Stay in the car . . . “
Lars Thompson opened the fridge and looked for something to eat. It had been several days since he’d had a real meal that didn’t come from a garbage can . . .
Now that R.I.P knew how to achieve his goal, he just had to find the means. So he got into his clunker of a car, which was parked on one of Detroit’s countless seedy, run-down streets littered with as many broken streetlamps as broken dreams . . .
Featured: Black Interest
- The Plot Against Hip Hop
- Home: Social Essays
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Nne)
- The Lost Treasures of R&B: A D Hunter Mystery
- The Game Don’t Change
- Confessions of a Ex-Doofus-ItchyFooted Mutha
- All or Nothing
- The System of Dante’s Hell
- Dance of the Jakaranda
- Abstraktion und Einfühlung
- HNIC (limited edition signed package)
- The Family Mansion