Waiting for Westmoreland - Prologue by John Maberry
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Those seeking happiness amidst the suffering or disillusionment of day to day life will find hope in reading Waiting for Westmoreland. Those seeking redemption for past mistakes, will also find a means to achieve it. The book is the true story of a 20th century Candide-an innocent growing up in America in the fifties.
This story is from this book:
Waiting for Westmoreland
chapters
chapter 1:
Prologue
chapter 2:
Prologue (continuation)
Prologue
chapter 1
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updated Mar 10, 2008
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1321 characters
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“If the two of them get married or I find the two of them together, I’ll kill the both of them.” It was the week before Thanksgiving, 1979, when a shaky-voiced Juanita called to pass along her father’s plans for us. At least that is what she overheard him telling her brother.
“He’s just saying that, right?”
“Maybe, but we need to take this seriously—he has a gun in a safe at home,” she said, a tremble of fear in her voice.
“But he wouldn’t really do that, would he?” No way, I thought.
“You don’t know my father. He has a very angry nature. There are things he’s done that…well, things I can’t tell you about. But believe me, he is perfectly capable of it.”
“So what are we going to do?” I asked, my disbelief finally fading.
“I don’t know. I just want you to be careful. He might be following me.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t come here to my place for a while.”
“We could still see each other at activities,” she added, hopefully.
“Unless he followed you. What kind of car does he drive?”“A ’78 Caprice wagon. It’s black.”“OK. Let’s lay low for a few days, just to be safe. We need to think about this.”
"We need to chant about it!"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
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“He’s just saying that, right?”
“Maybe, but we need to take this seriously—he has a gun in a safe at home,” she said, a tremble of fear in her voice.
“But he wouldn’t really do that, would he?” No way, I thought.
“You don’t know my father. He has a very angry nature. There are things he’s done that…well, things I can’t tell you about. But believe me, he is perfectly capable of it.”
“So what are we going to do?” I asked, my disbelief finally fading.
“I don’t know. I just want you to be careful. He might be following me.”
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t come here to my place for a while.”
“We could still see each other at activities,” she added, hopefully.
“Unless he followed you. What kind of car does he drive?”“A ’78 Caprice wagon. It’s black.”“OK. Let’s lay low for a few days, just to be safe. We need to think about this.”
"We need to chant about it!"
"Uh, yeah, I guess so."
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