Blood at the Root

by LaDarrion Williams

The whole hood smelled like burnt gunpowder and barbecue, a scent that’ll confuse your nose all day long.

Chadwick Boseman School of the Performing Arts.

“So, this is real? Like, no cap?” “I beg your pardon?” Taron asks. “I mean, this.” I point all around us. “It’s a whole campus full of magical niggas.”

Let us all lead with love and know our roots are deep, numerous, and vivacious.

It’s a whole lotta witchcraft and niggatry in this bitch.