Stories related to childhood

It rained so hard that I was two hours late picking her up. I found her sitting alone on the school steps, in a puddle of her own making.

It was like an escaping prisoner. Some said heat, others said chemicals. But she alone knew that this growth of hair could not be tamed.

The metallic smell of blood and salty tears found my hiding place before Mama did. “Papa’s sorry” she whimpered. I pretended to believe her.

As our lips joined, I touched the tip of his tongue with mine. He panicked and hurried back to his car. I jingled his car keys in the air.

When donated Christmas boxes came, she gave all the little gifts in hers to the younger orphans. All except the doll. She’d never had one.

Mechelle balanced the five-gallon jug on her head as she walked back to her master’s house. She wondered if she would be allowed to drink.