We are supposed to meet beneath the stars, while the ocean whispers. I’ve stripped to my briefs and sampled the water with my toes . . .
Category: Original Fiction
The first thing out of his mouth when I sat down was about the High Park. I hadn’t been in maybe a year or so since I’d moved out of the neighborhood, but my brother was a regular . . .
I always knew the kid was going to kill somebody, but no one believed me, especially my brother.
The cop listened. He pulled it together long enough to ask the caller to repeat himself. “It’s not funny. It’s theft. Someone took a porta potty!” . . .
He takes off, devil-may-care grin on his face as he looks back at me. He’s not even watching where he’s going . . .
She loved the sound of her high heels on the pavement. A casual unhurried I’m in control sound. She knew the higher the heels, the more elegant her walk . . .
I was quiet. I was able to be quiet. My sister more than made up for my absence of audible response to every situation. . .
I held a glass of champagne in my hand and stood alone under the dark night sky. . .
Featured: Black Interest
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- Scars of the Soul Are Why Kids Wear Bandages When They Don’t Have Bruises
- The Family Mansion
- Around Harvard Square
- A Tall History of Sugar
- Black Orchid Blues
- So Many Islands: Stories from the Caribbean, Mediterranean, Indian, and Pacific Oceans
- The Spring Thrills Digit
- Bandits & Bibles: Convict Literature in Nineteenth-Century America
- New-Generation African Poets: A Chapbook Box Set (Nne)
- On the Way Back
- The Book of Harlan