“Everybody was in awe of Frenchie, he was just so tough, handsome, and in control of life. His day at the bar usually ended at around five p.m., just like any other working man. Then he would walk home and join the domino game that went on constantly in the yard. Usually Dottie would find him at the domino table when she burst in through the gate, always in a hurry, anxious to come home and fix his dinner. she always said the same thing when she came through the gate, “Papa, ah come,” and he, looking cool and aloof, eyes narrowed through the cigarette smoke, would say, “Oh, yu come.”
I just finished The City People and Other Stories by Omoruyi Uwugiaren.I am reading The Cutting Season by Attica Locke. It’s a mystery. Staying in the Halloween bookjourney
TIME, HOURS, MINUTES, SECONDS, DURATION,ETC.
“The air outside was cold for October, and wet, still drunk from a late-night rain that had soaked Belle Vie, and again she thought it was wise to warn the evening’s host against outdoor seating.”
“I remember it all with a vividness that marks the moment as the watershed it would be: The court was glowing, its wooden surface honey-brown beneath the overhead lights. Along the edges, players huddled with their coaches, and beyond, we were gathered, the clamoring rows upon rows of us, eager for the timeout to end.”
“I had a soft feeling about the word, something kind, something released or releasing. But I didn’t know how to explain it.”(fredasvoice)
“A low, focused barking outside awoke Hilton. He jumped from his chair and reached for his gun, but it was no longer against the wall where he’d left it. He felt a stifling panic until he spotted the gun’s glimmer at the family room entrance, lying across the floor. He paused for a split second before running to grab it. Who had moved his gun? He glanced up at the clock. It wasn’t quite 3:15. The dead of night, and Charlie was barking at someone.”
I hope readers will enjoy my book blog. I intend to introduce new authors and reintroduce well established authors. It is my hope to keep Black Literature meaningful to future African-Americans and all other cultures here and around the world. It is a fact. Without literature our voices will die. We can not allow this to happen. The reader needs the authors to tell the stories. The authors need the readers to read their prose and verse. It must become a united world struggle for the survival of our beauty and necessity as a race.