Postcard from Chinguashi

“Kill the fucker, goddammit.  He killed your father.  I’d do it but I got this bum leg.  From him.”  His voice wheezed.  “You got somethin’ to drink, Joey?”

Joey pointed to the fridge.

“Every fourth man died,” Richie said, rewinding the story.  “I tried to take care of your Dad, but it was no good.  He died in my arms.”

“You said this guard done it,” he prompted.  “Killed my dad.”

“I’ll never forget him, ‘One-Ear’ Huang.  He only had half an ear.  He beat Alfie within an inch of his life for falling out of formation.  Wasn’t nothin’ any of the other men could do while we watched him gettin’ kicked.  Your dad was bleeding from the ears, the nose.  Concussion.”

*  *  *

Joey crawled back out his window and sat on the fire escape with his back to the sun-warm bricks.  Nobody out there on Elizabeth Street now except the Mustache Petes sunning themselves and old ladies in black with their market baskets.





About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)