Ralphie stood in front of the canvas, poised with the paintbrush, looking ridiculous. “That’s not how you fucking do it,” John shouted over from the couch. “Well, how do you do it then, you show me,” Ralphie answered. But he went on and dabbed a little white shine to the top of the guy’s bald head in the picture.
Melna had a huge afro that barely fit in the car next to me. We drove up the street in silence. “That’s the one,” she said suddenly. I looked over and saw a few teenagers standing by a liquor store. They didn’t look wholesome but still, they were teenagers. She looked at me. “So stop the car!” she demanded. Continue reading
The cats all had wings and flew from tree to tree following Meg and Gettle. The old women tried to ignore them but Meg finally had enough and spun around, glaring up at the winged animals. They landed on various branches above, staring down. “Stop following me!” Meg shouted up at the cats, her voice weak with age but still commanded by a powerful spirit. The cats stared, their yellow eyes gleaming in their dark faces. Gettle took hold of Meg’s bony arm, “Don’t make them mad.” She whispered.