It was the kind of crimson-covered sole that coaxed me to go to the Shoeshine Man. Most of my needs were met by black cobblers around the corner from our church on Sixteenth Street but they knew ... [+]
Short Fiction
5 min
Emelda Beason had a lovely lilt to her laughter, a natural hoarseness. Her words and tone were gracious. Jakesport was a fishing town on Alabama’s Coosa River before developers turned it ... [+]
Joan feels remorse for having hated her toes most of her life. She inherited them from her grandmother, who had hated them too. Her grandmother had cried at the swimming pool on Joan's 11th birthday ... [+]
The words in my textbook dance off the page in highlighted neon lines. I hadn’t made the highlights. They came with the book despite Ebay’s reassurance that it was in “good condition; like ... [+]
January was just another year. A year closer to the election. A year farther from the end of graduation and all the promise that entailed. A year closer to midlife.
In February I turned
... [+]
It’s a cool Saturday in October and Peter Jenkins, age 11, is bouncing the basketball in the ball court, of Capital Public Houses, where he lives. The chubby, caramel-colored Black boy plays ball ... [+]
What Do You Really Think, or Really Know? Understanding Thoughts (Thinking) and Knowledge (Known Facts) This morning I woke up to a sunny, hot day in the deep south where the weather is now becoming ... [+]
I met Mario my sophomore year in high school; we had five of our six classes together. I was not arguing with that kind of fate, and I was going to know Mario. Our high school was ninety two percent ... [+]
Ending my shift in the darkness of the night. Walking to the car quite exhausted. Climbing slowly into the driver's seat. Inhaling a deep breath prior to starting the ignition. I exhale and listen ... [+]
My America is so free until its dysfunctional. My family is as functionally, dysfunctional as they come. Because of them, I have loved and can persevere anything. I have never discussed what it has ... [+]
My first memory of racism, well, my first realization of racism, happened when I was a young child. My little friend was black, and I had never thought a thing about it either way. Our families were ... [+]
The thing about trauma, when it is survived, is that it can prepare people for the future. Sometimes people develop skills to handle a crisis or deescalate violence. Veterans can become police ... [+]
America, I can’t color you in. You don’t exist. America is not a country. There are three Americas: North, Central, and South. You can't be drawn on any map. However, I will color you a name ... [+]
I always wonder if cavemen and women knew what time was? And if so, did it seem to accelerate and decelerate to them, as it appears to us today? The concept of time has only changed recently (a few ... [+]
Sister Sue lived in the convent. Tim Flowers worked nearby on the land. Sister Sue had lived behind the wall for such a long time. Flowers thought it was all so grand. The convent was ... [+]
America is made up of hundreds of unique minority populations, and one is the Deaf Community. Our country borrows its principal spoken language from our one-time colonial power, England. Howeve ... [+]