“The Mighty Kwapo” by Kristine Simelda
Kwapo can’t remember the words to the song, but it doesn’t matter. These days the show is strictly burlesque . . .
Tag: Caribbean Literature
“Night Class” by Andre Bagoo
The Mayfair was over, the lights turned off, the bran tub emptied, the decorations taken down and locked in cupboards safely. The bouncy castle stood still, awaiting the workmen who would remove it tomorrow. The gates to the schoolyard were shut, and the sentry assumed duty. No one saw the boy in black . . .
“Pray for Us Sinners” by Breanne Mc Ivor
My son saw women peel their skin from their bones and burn their bodies out like cane fire before bed . . .
“Naga” by Lelawattee Manoo-Rahming
Naga raced across the floor. She knew if she crawled, the pebbles would dig into her skin and make her sore. She made for the nearest pole and climbed to the highest rafter, where she curled up and watched the man on the crocus-sack mattress, grunting and writhing . . .
“Lobo” by Richard Georges
Gus sipped lemongrass tea from a foam cup. It was still dark. His secondhand truck idled outside the market as four men clambered into its tray. This was where he picked up workers for the day—mostly men who came to the island at night in quiet boats. The men clutched grease-stained paper bags and chattered loudly between bites of johnnycakes and various patties. Four men got into the truck’s tray. Gus was expecting five . . .
“Tamarind Mouth Comes Home” by Portia Subran
The rain stops now and I shake my head to fling the last drop off my big straw hat. It have a freezing trickle of water running down my arm, a silver ball escaping down to the tip of my finger. Forest rain does be like that: cold in the humidity, shining like hell when the light touch it . . .
“The Woodsman” by Kristine Simelda
The Woodsman takes a nip of rum and stares out from under the brim of his battered ball cap. “Fucking Green Hell,” he mutters under his breath . . .
“Mon sé mèt ou! (I am your master!)” by Delroy Nesta Williams
Eddie had always been a quiet man. Living on the outskirts of the village meant he was always met with a curious but hesitant eye. The village children were always warned to stay away from him . . .