fiction and musings from a gay black dude with delusions above his station
Wednesday, February 22, 2157 I had to get out of there, fast. I exited as gracefully as I could, seeing how they took me in and listened to my tales of woe and fed me, etc. But I had to get the hell out of there. I found out more about their “embrace” with water….
Tuesday, February 15, 2157 I rarely left the mansion much and when I did it was to take walks up in the hills. Trees crop up on the lower edges of north-facing slopes. There aren’t that many trees, just a few, the hardy ones. The survivors. I am a tree, a moving, walking tree. I…
In the days after Aileen’s visit, Ángel doubled down on his reading. He took her words to heart and read like their very survival depended on it. His mother was proud of him, but worried that he pushed himself too hard. “It’s wicked important, Momma,” he told her. His grandmother felt proud of him, too,…
Albertson Wallet V had a peculiar way of walking that mixed a prance with a swagger. He had a large build – he played rugby in college – which accentuated his peculiar locomotion’s menacing air. His father, Albertson Wallet IV, taught him to always have a presence when entering a room. A-Five, as he was…
Lillian had to go shopping. She left Ángel with her mother, a harmless enough move, so she thought. Her mother would watch her favorite TV shows, too engrossed in them to fuss about this or that. Ángel would read. Thing was, though, that Lillian’s mother had an old school way of looking at baby-sitting. The…
(For Ray Bradbury) By the early 22nd century, guns were ubiquitous. Folks started getting trained on how to use them in kindergarten on account of all the drive-by shootings that took place. As a means of defense, a gun was alright. But it rarely worked as a means of securing justice. Perpetrators tended to get…
