Postcard from Chinguashi

“Hey, you.  ‘One-Ear’ Huang.”

The man squinted, looking at Joey for the first time.  “What you want?”

“Remember Chinguashi?  The prison camp?  The Americans you killed twenny-fi’ years ago?”

A cloud of fear mixed with defiance crossed Huang’s face as he scooted to get inside.

“Remember Alfie Mottolli, the guy you kicked to death?  He was my father, you Chink bastard.”  Joey’s foot held the door open.  As Huang leaned forward to press his weight against the door, Joey jammed his knife blade into the man’s chest, twisting it through the shirt pocket.  “Here’s your postcard from Chinguashi.”

Joey leaned over to wiggle his knife out of the man’s ribs.  When he raised his eyes he saw a girl — young woman, really.  Her mouth formed a great big O of horror before her arm covered her face.

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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. :)