Click here to subscribe for free future chapters and for access to all previous chapters Worth Killing For? It was a clear cool night with a full moon. I felt exposed. This was not the best way to go unseen with what we planned to do. The .380 pistol was only about the size of my hand. It felt warm as I pulled it out of my pocket and held it low in the passenger side seat and prepared myself to pull the trigger. My cousin drove slowly around the corner and glared at me before approaching the...

Click here to subscribe for free future chapters and for access to all previous chapters Worth Killing For? It was a clear cool night with a full moon. I felt exposed. This was not the best way to go unseen with what we planned to do. The .380 pistol was only about the size of my hand. It felt warm as I pulled it out of my pocket and held it low in the passenger side seat and prepared myself to pull the trigger. My cousin drove slowly around the corner and glared at me before approaching the...

The Lady in the Picture For many years in my early childhood, I recall looking at a photo in an old album of my baby pictures that was taken of me as an infant being held by mama at one of my aunt Pearl’s basketball games. In that photo, there was my Aunt Pat (Pearls older schizophrenic sister who helped raise me) sitting on mamas left side and and a white woman who was seated on her right. On a number of occasions I asked mama and other family members who that lady in the picture was. The...