Are You the 1% Writer?

When you grow up in Georgetown, Guyana, you get used to certain things: sugarcane fields, hot days, and blood-sucking, vampire bats.  Tor the most part, the bats weren’t too much trouble but occasionally, they’d get into the house. My dad would go after them, broom in hand…he’d disappear for a while, then come back with something black in his hand.

I knew what it was: his sock. He’d chase us around the house. My sister & I would squeal and shriek, screaming, “No, Daddy! Don’t throw it"!...