They found Clarette on her porch that morning, a wax figure in her robe, barefoot and clutching a nearly spent half-pint of brandy. . .
Tag: Mondays Are Murder
The orange line. Change to the red line. They’re there. Sitting, standing, giving me the quick, disdain laced glances reserved for work booted laborers with tormented hands. . .
When you grow up in Springfield, Illinois, you’ve heard the stories about Paul Powell and the concealed cash stash. . .
Detective Harry Crenshaw glanced at the pamphlet one more time. . .
I lived on a farm on Falls Road in those days. . .
Parnham tells me to come downtown. I stop to get cigarettes. On the shelf behind the cashier are brown paper bags of nuts. I buy one, then continue on to Central and park my car across from the courthouse. . . .
Raindrops glistened about Sue’s minivan the day she left . . .
There’s nowhere more unsafe than the back of an ambulance. . .
Featured: Black Interest
- New Worlds, Old Ways: Speculative Tales from the Caribbean
- Even in Paradise
- We Matter: Athletes and Activism
- Pepperpot: Best New Stories from the Caribbean
- On the Way Back
- A History of the African-American People (Proposed) by Strom Thurmond, as told to Percival Everett & James Kincaid (A Novel)
- The Roving Tree
- Eight New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set
- Iron Balloons: Hit Fiction From Jamaica’s Calabash Writer’s Workshop
- A Simple Distance
- The Game Don’t Change