Monice Mitchell Simms's Blog, page 6

Could Be Her Time (Part 5) – The love sp

Could Be Her Time (Part 5) – The love spell with the woman suddenly broken, Johnson shot Merry a petrified look she … http://ow.ly/1cguJZ

Could Be Her Time (Part 5)

The love spell with the woman suddenly broken, Johnson shot Merry a petrified look she couldn't decipher.

"Merry, whut you sorry 'bout?"

"'Cuz I was gone…"

"Merry mus' still be sick, Momma!  She was worried you would be mad, 'cuz I had tuh pick fo' her, 'cuz she was gone so long in duh outhouse."

Johnson stood up, eye balling his sister, telling her not to say another word.  Merry glanced at the pretty woman.  She nodded.  Merry bit her tongue.

"Why would I be mad at you 'bout dat, girl?  If you was sick, you shoulda come and tol' me."

"Well, maybe she was scared to.  Could be her time.  I started 'bout her age."

The pretty woman's voice sounded strange to Merry, yet familiar.  She looked at her, hoping she would speak again.

"Lawd, dat's all I need.  Jesus, gurl, you bleedin'?"

"Ma'am?

Dora spun Merry around to examine her backside.

"I said, did yo' monthly come?  You bleedin'?"

Merry peered at her fingers.  The fresh cuts from this morning's cotton picking were already healing.

"No, momma.  Not no more."

Dora paused, then laughed.  Relieved.  Merry loved to hear her Momma's laugh.  These days, she didn't get to hear it often enough.

Dora shook her finger, fussing at the woman.

"Don't you be comin' down here startin' no mess.  Merry gettin' her monthly.  Lawd, have mercy!  You almost gave me a heart 'tack."

Dora, still chuckling, sat down with a thud and took a sip of her lemonade.  Merry didn't move.  Johnson and the pretty woman also stayed where they were.

No one said it, but they were all waiting for Dora to tell them what they could do next.

"Whut wrong wit' yaw?  It ain't been dat long, for yaw tuh be actin' like yaw don't know each other.  Merry, Johnson, stop actin' silly and come ovah here and give yo' momma a propuh greetin'."

Merry and Johnson looked at each other, confused.

"I said, come say hello to yo' momma.  You hear me?  Or do you want tuh go outside and git a switch.  Merry…"

"Momma, don't.  It has been a long time.  Too long."

TO BE CONTINUED…

*

EXPERIENCE ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS YOUR WAY!

PLAY/SUBSCRIBE TO THE AUDIO MINI SERIES — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS – EPISODE TEN

PURCHASE THE BOOK –  ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON AMAZON

PURCHASE FOR YOUR KINDLE — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON KINDLE

PURCHASE THE BOOK — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON BARNESANDNOBLE.COM

Could Be Her Time (Part 4) – The air ins

Could Be Her Time (Part 4) – The air inside the house felt hotter than usual.  Stickier.  The windows in the front r… http://ow.ly/1cbTAx

Could Be Her Time (Part 4)

The air inside the house felt hotter than usual.  Stickier.  The windows in the front room were open, but there was no breeze.  Not that it would have mattered anyway.  By all white folks accounts, Merry's small shack of a home wasn't really a house.  It was more like an old hot box, a wooden makeshift three room shelter, in danger of tumbling over from the next high wind, with a leaky tin roof and rotting floor.  Not fit enough for a white man's beloved family hound to live in.

But to Merry, it was home.  All she knew.  All she had.  But here lately for reasons she wasn't consciously aware of, didn't understand, nor could explain, she had been yearning for more.

Dora and the pretty woman sat in two chairs by the radio, sipping on lemonade.  Johnson panted at the woman's feet, gazing up at her like a lovesick puppy dog.  Merry quietly entered, hoping no one would notice her.  The screen door creaked.  All eyes turned on her.

"Merry!  Gurl, you alright?"

Dora rose and walked over to Merry, who stood frozen.  Dora was what Colored folks called red bone.  Two years shy of 50, but not looking a day over 40, Dora was the color of Georgia clay, her weary face randomly spotted with freckles.

She was willowy, tall, and always wore her wavy black hair plaited into two long ponytails.

Dora felt Merry's forehead and pushed her hand into her daughter's soaked shirt, touching her flat chest and back.  Her touch was rough.  Like her love.

Merry knew her momma loved her.  No doubt about it.  But Momma Blankface – that's what folks called Dora, because her face so called showed no emotion and was hard to read – didn't love like other folks with flowery words and hugs and kisses.  Instead she showed what was in her heart to Merry, Johnson and those around her through her hands.

Merry wiggled from her momma's touch.  It tickled.

"Well, you hot, but you ain't got a fever.  I swear, if you had been gone five mo' minutes, I was gone come afta you mysef."

Merry peeked around Dora to read Johnson's face to see how she should answer, but he was still starring up at the pretty stranger.  The woman, nervous and just as surprised to see Merry, looked at her with knowing eyes and smiled hello.  Again.

"Momma, I'm sorry."

"Sorry 'bout whut?"

TO BE CONTINUED…

*

EXPERIENCE ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS YOUR WAY!

PLAY/SUBSCRIBE TO THE AUDIO MINI SERIES — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS – EPISODE NINE

PURCHASE THE BOOK –  ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON AMAZON

PURCHASE FOR YOUR KINDLE — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON KINDLE

PURCHASE THE BOOK — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON BARNESANDNOBLE.COM

Could Be Her Time (Part 3) – Merry knew

Could Be Her Time (Part 3) – Merry knew exactly which switch from the tree in her yard she was going to pick.  She h… http://ow.ly/1c9SmS

Could Be Her Time (Part 3)

Merry knew exactly which switch from the tree in her yard she was going to pick.  She had been gone so long, Johnson with his chicken self had probably told her momma already where she had been, so it didn't make no sense to lie about it.  No, this time, she was going to be a big girl, march into the house with her switch, get her licking and get it over with.

That was her plan, at least, as Merry walked up to her house, fully expecting to see her angry momma standing on the porch waiting to beat her.  Instead, Merry saw something she never dreamed she'd ever see parked in her front yard – the car from up North that she saw earlier in town.  And its handsome military driver, muscular, tall and the color of sweet buttermilk, stood outside on the porch smoking a cigarette.

Merry smiled, excited.  The handsome man smiled back.

"Oh, my.  I'd recognized that pretty smile anywhere.  You must be Merry."

"Yes, suh."

"No, no, baby, my daddy's suh.  I'm Cornelius.  Folks call me Corn."

"Hi, Mr. Corn.  Do I know you?"

Corn chuckled, exposing a gap in his front teeth large enough for Merry to stick her fist through.

"Straight out just like yo' momma.  No, you don't know me, but I know yo' momma.  Baby Girl, you look just like she spit you out."

Merry's heart skipped a beat, then she glanced toward the doorway, remembering her licking.

Army soldier or not, this fine stranger wasn't going to be able to save her from her momma's wrath

"Is my Momma inside?"

"Yes, Baby Girl.  She's been lookin' for you."

TO BE CONTINUED…

*

EXPERIENCE ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS YOUR WAY!

SUBSCRIBE TO THE AUDIO MINI SERIES — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS – EPISODE EIGHT

PURCHASE THE BOOK –  ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON AMAZON

PURCHASE FOR YOUR KINDLE — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON KINDLE

PURCHASE THE BOOK — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON BARNESANDNOBLE.COM

Could Be Her Time (Part 2) – Merry turne

Could Be Her Time (Part 2) – Merry turned and entered the store, immediately casting her eyes to the floor before sh… http://ow.ly/1c5AKB

Could Be Her Time (Part 2)

Merry turned and entered the store, immediately casting her eyes to the floor before she answered.

"Oh, yes, suh.  Sorry, suh.  I came to fetch my Momma's mail."

"Don't your mammy rent a box at your farm?"

"Well, yes, suh.  But she ain't got mail in so long, over a month or more.  She was 'spectin' somethin' important from up North and I thought maybe the mailman left somethin' here…"

"You accusin' me of stealin' your nigga mammy's mail?"

Nigga.  Nobody called her momma nigga.  The fire in Merry's legs sept into her blood, boiling it.  She looked up at the storekeeper, stared him in the eye.

"No, suh.  I just thought maybe somethin' got left behind.  By mistake."

The storekeeper stammered, the venom in little Merry's eyes momentarily choking the breath out of him.

"Well, she ain't got no mail here.  And you best to learn not to eyeball white folks, gal.  You might find you and your mammy hangin' from a tree.  You understand me?"

Merry looked down and nodded.  The storekeeper's eyes, suddenly cold and dead, were scarier to her than his lethal threat.  She backed out of the store's door, tripping down the stairs.

"Yes, suh.  Sorry, suh."

Too frightened to be embarrassed and the fire in her legs forgotten, Merry ran home as fast as her short legs would carry her.

TO BE CONTINUED….

*

EXPERIENCE ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS YOUR WAY!

PLAY/SUBSCRIBE TO THE AUDIO MINI SERIES — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS – EPISODE SEVEN

PURCHASE THE BOOK –  ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON AMAZON

PURCHASE FOR YOUR KINDLE — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON KINDLE

PURCHASE THE BOOK — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON BARNESANDNOBLE.COM

Could Be Her Time (Part 1)

MERRY'S legs throbbed something awful.  To make it into town in time, she darn near ran the rest of the way, and it felt like the bones of her legs were roasting over a slow fire, smoldering underneath her skin.  She wanted to find a safe place to sit down and rest, give the pain time to pass.  But she knew she couldn't.  The good white folks of Locust Grove wouldn't take kindly to a young, healthy Colored gal lounging around on her high tail when she could be in the fields making money for one of them.  Merry was just going to have to choke back the tears and keep moving.

Merry tried not to look as afraid as she was.  In all of her nine years, she had never ventured far away from the safeness of home and she had only been into town once or twice that she could remember.

On their farm, they had a cow, some pigs and chickens and pretty much grew all of the fruits, spices, herbs and vegetables they needed.  And her momma only ever went into town to buy medicine or something for special occasions.  The last time was last year, when she brought Merry with her and bought material from the general store to make a new Easter dress for Merry and long pants for Johnson.

Johnson's long pants now hovered halfway between his ankles and his knees and Merry's dress still hung off her a bit.  Dora always made Merry's and Johnson's clothes larger, so that they could grow into them over the seasons.  But it looked like to Merry that every morning, her baby brother woke up hungrier, taller, his feet a bit wider and his arms a little longer.  Merry, though, was hardly growing at all.

Merry wondered if she would ever grow up into a beautiful Colored woman like the one now walking out of the general store.  The young woman, carrying a small bag of licorice candies, wore a pretty navy blue dress and matching gloves.  She was also petite, and curvy, not straight and flat chested like Merry.  The color of coffee and cream, she wore her hair pulled back into a bun underneath a blue and white hat that matched her blue and white pumps.

The woman smiled hello to Merry over her shoulder as they passed each other, a brief moment of recognition.  Captivated, Merry watched her drive off with a handsome Colored Army man at the wheel of a beautiful jet black 1940 Ford two-door deluxe sedan – a car she had only seen in picture books from up North.

"Gal, you standin' in my doorway attractin' flies.  You comin' in or not?"

TO BE CONTINUED…

*

EXPERIENCE ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS YOUR WAY!

PLAY/SUBSCRIBE TO THE AUDIO MINI SERIES — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS – EPISODE SIX

PURCHASE THE BOOK –  ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON AMAZON

PURCHASE FOR YOUR KINDLE — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON KINDLE

PURCHASE THE BOOK — ADDRESS: HOUSE OF CORRECTIONS ON BARNESANDNOBLE.COM

Stay Down, Boy. Don't Move, 1944 (Part

Stay Down, Boy. Don't Move, 1944 (Part 4) – Mr. Sammy and his old horse scuttled off, the horse leaving behind a sti… http://ow.ly/1bZzze