Louisiana Westminister Street Short Story

I was a passenger in the backseat of our family vehicle. The small bumps in the pavement lulled me to a place of perfect repose. As we looked outside our windows we could see the sky painting a magnificent show for us. The sun was going down, but the heavens were brighter and more astounding than I had ever seen them before. It was as if someone had set the clouds alight with raging wildfires and splashes of pink and purple scattered about. I never wanted it to end, but the sky had other plans. The masterpiece before us began to recede into darkness as the nighttime engulfed the sun and put daytime to

Arriving back at his apartment, Booker found Tom curled on the couch, his gaunt face a mask of misery. Dressed in ill-fitting sweats, the borrowed clothing swamped his slender frame, giving him the appearance of someone much younger than his twenty-five years. There was a bucket next to the couch that smelled faintly of vomit and Booker averted his eyes, unable to stomach the sight of the foul smelling liquid. His lower body ached, and all he wanted to do was take a hot shower and go to bed. For the first time since Tom’s arrival, he was aware of the enormity of what he was taking on. He could say goodbye to his carefree bachelor’s life, he was now responsible for a sick and emotionally damaged

“Earlier today, we learned that an attempt was made on your cousin’s life,” her father said to her. “Your mother has so much grief for your cousin, because of the actions that he has made since the past two years – deeds worthy of being told to all

Darkness surrounds the evening sky. The stars were peeking out from their dark home. It looked as if God took a straight pin, poked a sheet of paper with tiny holes. Crickets softly played their symphony as the world slept. James laid in his bunk, staring off into the darkness. He wondered what the day had in store for him. The night watchman quietly walked his route, like a thief in the night.

It was starting to become dark, the light was lifting as the sun went down, and the sun streaks climbed up the wall and fell over the feeding racks and over

The Louisiana Weekly is among the oldest newspapers that African Americans publish in the United States. The weekly paper published in New Orleans for 80 years, as of 2005, has chronicled the ups and downs of black people, particularly before the mid-1960s when mainstream newspapers began the slow climb toward progressive reporting of the affairs of blacks.

‘“Everything changes now,” he says. “It’s time I got to know my own son, who had his mind poisoned against me”’(page 100)

In Birmingham, Alabama in 1963. Me and my daughter Mary Jane moved into a tiny apartment on White ln. The tiny apartment had only one bathroom and it was located up stairs and the two bedrooms was on the bottom floor.

I was starting to have doubts… I still remember the screams of the children and the noose tightened and dug into their skin until a river of crimson blood ran from their neck. “Sir we are we going?” a child questioned “Will my mother be there?” “No.” I respond with no emotion

It happened quickly. One day, Lori and I were talking – dreaming – and we came to the conclusion that a house was in order. Now, this wouldn’t be an unrealistic aspiration for most people. But most people have money when they consider making such a purchase. I did have a string of good luck and had booked a bunch of commercials, but...

The silence that had once consumed the air was now gone, as by my brothers continued their card game. Things were settling a little, but tears began to creep out my Ma’s eyes. Though she pushes and hides her emotions, I can still see her discomfort and uneasiness laying behind her eyes. YOU ARE HERE

Once upon a time in a land far away…….oh wait wrong story. Once upon a time in Louisiana there was a girl in 4-H named Kourtni Thibodeaux and that girl was me; correction is me and as you can presume I’m a bit of a jokester. I’m sixteen years old and this is my eighth year participating in 4-H, a part of the Calcasieu Homeschool 4-H Club.

But there is hope. Clouds marshal with the speed of massing armies, dark and ominous. The sky blackens and the light that was once abundant is blotted out, the sun-god eclipsed by a monsoon cloak.

The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.

The people were outraged. I sat on my throne. My eyes were shut. I felt the cold air blow in. "Why didn't you set up a vote?" I heard my sister say. I didn't bother to open my eyes. Her shoes clacked on the floor. "Brother, tell me," she said in a much softer tone. I opened my eyes, but, I didn't face her, I stared at the locket in my hand. "My lord, please tell me there is a good reason behind all this," she said, standing next to me. "La'Ta, this is my choice and nothing you say can change it," I said, "If you do not like it, please go to another planet," La'Ta gasped, "How could you do this? Father would be disappointed!" I said nothing and she angrily walked out. I opened the locket, inside was a photo of my father and mother. I sighed and quietly cried.