Books and Works

A Call To Mission Work. An Interview With Madison Wicklam.

Today I have the privilege of hosting Madison Wicklam. A few months ago, she embarked on a journey that would take her on a worldwide mission of mercy that was made possible by an organization called YWAM (Youth With A Mission). I have included a link to YWAM at the bottom of this blog, for those interested in learning more.

The experiences this young woman had were unforgettable. While serving others, she gained valuable personal growth and close friendships.

What places have you traveled to, and served in, while involved with YWAM? Which one was most memorable?

The first place on my long journey with YWAM was Las Vegas. The actual school part of my discipleship training school was held in Las Vegas, Nevada. While in this school, we were involved in a diverse community where we all grew closer to God and served Him there. Ministry in Las Vegas involved handing out self care packages and talking to and praying for women on the most popular prostitution “track” in Vegas, working with Nevada Child Seekers to bring missing, young women and men home and simply going to the most tourist populated areas to raise awareness about human trafficking. These are just some of the many ministry aspects that YWAM Las Vegas is involved with.

The one part of YWAM Las Vegas is that they have a mini outreach (mission trip) to Mexico halfway through their school. In Ensenada, we worked with boys and girls rehab centres, we delivered coats and prayer to women and men in the red light district of Tijuana, and we spent time at a migrant camp playing with children and encouraging the women who were in less than ideal circumstances.

On our two month outreach, we stayed in Kathmandu, Nepal for a month doing slum ministry, teaching English, dance bar ministry, cabin bar ministry, and lots of prayer/intercession over the city. For the second month, my team split up and my half of the team went to Thailand while our other half went to Uganda. In Thailand, we spent most of our time in a village where young girls are taken into the city of Bangkok to be put into slavery and being human trafficked. Our ministry consisted of loving on young kids and showing them that Jesus gives them hope. We also had the opportunity to minister to some of the young children’s parents which was very important in saving these children from being sent into turmoil. The most memorable place for me was Nepal. I fell in love with the children and all of the ministry we did with them. Their need for love was so apparent and me being a carrier of the love of the Father, I wanted to love on every single one of those precious children. Working with these children will always be my most memorable part of my outreach. They will always be in the back of my mind and I hope to go back to visit these kids who really changed my heart.

 

Any particular life-changing experience(s) you want to share?

Pretty much my entire time in Nepal was life changing. During our time there, I experienced God in so many new ways and I really had to rely on Him daily to get me through some pretty hard times there. Every morning we would go to the slums which was a small community of little shacks and tents right off of a busy highway. We took our team to a little shed and as the children saw us come in, they would join, and we would sing songs about Jesus, share a bible story, and teach English to them. In this group of kids there were about three or four girls around the age of twelve to fourteen that expressed they did not have parents. I do not know the circumstances in which caused them to have to raise their siblings, but my heart absolutely broke for these strong young women. They are also very much at risk for being taken out of this slum and put directly into a dance bar, cabin bar, or brothel where they will be sexually exploited for money.  In a situation like this it is hard to see God’s hand but He has surely protected them this far and I have so much faith that He will continue to shield them.  These girls really influenced me in how their lives were less than ideal but they found so much joy in praising God and taking care of their families. I really grew during these difficult days in Nepal as God significantly grew my faith in Him.  There were multiple times where I could have lost hope or been discouraged in a situation where He did not give me the answer I was makes all things work together for my good in HIS timing and not mine. Having Him reveal this to me, really made the rest of my outreach a lot easier and I completely leaned on Him when I felt overwhelmed or discouraged.

Why should other youth consider joining YWAM? Or become involved in the fight against human trafficking?

Other youth should consider joining YWAM for so many reasons.  The major reasons I can think of are to grow their relationship with Jesus, fight for a cause they are passionate about, learn more about the word and God’s calling on their life, travel the world, meet new people, get introduced to new cultures/ways of life, build life long friendships and set a fire in their own life to see their lives transformed. Through YWAM youth have an amazing opportunity to follow and work for a passion that they have including human trafficking. YWAM Las Vegas offers young people a chance to explore the harsh realities of human trafficking by bringing in special speakers who were once trafficked themselves, parents of trafficking victims, police officers working on the front lines and others in the community working tirelessly to prevent human trafficking. During the school, my team and I would go out into the most high risk areas for human trafficking to pray for women, hand out care packages and ask them some key questions in indicating if they are involved in human trafficking or not. This was a hard task but so rewarding when we were able to help out one of these young women.  I believe youth who have a passion for anti-human trafficking should definitely check out YWAM Las Vegas.

 Have you made lifetime friends?

I definitely have made lifelong friends. During the course of the discipleship training school I became very close with a lot of people. When living in community, being open and vulnerable with the people around you is necessary because during the course of the school, you go trough a lot personally and spiritually. It is essential to talk things through with people and the small community around you can understand what is going on and it makes it easy to confide in them. Living with the same group of people for 5 months has its ups and downs but it is definitely a life-changing experience and I believe it will better prepare me for life at post secondary and even for when I have my own family some day.

Has this experience influenced your career decision? 

This experience has influenced my career choice indefinitely. I never would have thought I would want to be the type of person to pursue missions but I can definitely see myself continuing with intercultural ministry. I am also hoping to continue in social work/human services at post secondary in attempts to eventually work with young women involved in human trafficking in a professional setting. My heart has broken for missions and helping victims of this modern day slavery so I am excited to see how God uses me in these areas. I am ready to go where He sends me and I know He has big plans for my walk with Him.

Madison Wicklam is an 18-year-old from a small town hoping to reach the nations.  She has a passion for children living in less than ideal situations and those enslaved by human trafficking. Madison has recently come back from a five-month missions trip that she describes as life changing.  She now thrives to spre1ad the love of God that she has experienced so deeply in her own life.

Get Involved! Learn More at YWAM ! 

Advertisements

Word Trivia Answers Revealed

We’ve settled into a blood freezing cold snap up here, in the great white north, so I’m taking advantage of breaks between shoveling the snow, and adjusting the heat, to reveal the truths about some wacky words I’ve tried to fool you with.

I thank all of you who took the time to play, and for challenging the quiz organically, instead of turning to Google. If you didn’t know a single one, don’t feel bad, these are not your everyday drivers.

Drum roll . . . please! Prepare to be amazed! Prepare to be enchanted! Enlightened? You get the point.

Once again, here are the words, the possible answers, and the correct answer below each.

Woopie: 

A: To declare oneself victorious, in spite of logical argument(s) brought forth by one’s opponent(s).

B: A beveled edged chisel used in nineteenth century cabinet making.

C: An affluent retired person able to pursue an active lifestyle.

D: A pie (any flavor) that is offered to another in order to win their affection. (shortened and derived from, To woo with pie).

Correct Answer: C 

Sockdolager: 

A: A forceful blow

B: A nineteenth century derogatory term for someone who begs for money or food on a wharf

C: To shun.

D: A mythical creature responsible for missing socks. It is believed to dwell in the linen traps of clothes dryers.

Correct Answer: A

He’s still adorable, though.

Winklepicker

A: Style of shoe or boot with a long pointed toe.

B: Another name for the threshing drum on a nineteenth century grain threshing machine.

C: The long claw on the middle toe of an African Wild Dog.

D: An ancient fairy who steals periwinkle flowers.

Correct Answer: A

Erinaceaous 

A: The characteristic of excessive boldness.

B: A term used in marine biology to refer to the time period during which the Great Barrier Reef began to form.

C: A term used to describe someone attractive enough to resemble a goddess. This was derived from the goddess Eriu, the goddess of Irish Sovereignty.

D: A term that refers to something or someone who resembles a hedgehog.

Correct Answer: D (yes, really 🙂 ) 

There you have it. Go forth and share your newly acquired wisdom about these peculiar, and obscure, Quasimodo’s of the English language. Rescue them from the darkest corners of the attic, mind the spiders, though.

If you enjoyed this bit of trivia, you can play again, just click on this link: Bibbles, Ratoons, And Bumfuzzles. Oh My!

 

Please Welcome #RRBC Spotlight Author, Mary Adler

Rhani DChae

It’s my great pleasure to host #RRBC and #RWISA author, Mary Adler. Below, you will find a touching piece that tells how one writer keeps the loved ones who have passed on alive in her world(s).

* * *

YOU CAN GO HOME AGAIN

PART ONE

Everyone from my childhood family is gone. No aunts, uncles, parents or grandparents. When my last aunt died, I realized there was no one in the world who remembered me as a child. The blonde curls, untying the chickens who wrecked my grandmother’s dining room instead of escaping, the precocious words, the broken bones. No one knew how old women in head scarves reminded me of Little Annie Rooney’s Mrs. Meany and kept me glued to my grandmother’s leg, or why I wouldn’t go out when there was a full moon. Of course, there is no one to remember that they had told me…

View original post 474 more words

Another Word Quiz? Verily!

So, are we all settled in to 2019? Are the Christmas decorations neatly tucked into their boxes in the attic or basement? Is that New Year’s resolution list gradually being struck off as each goal is completed? Ya . . . me neither.

Hey, what about stepping back in time with me to last September and whipping that cerebral cortex into post holiday shape? Some of you may recall that word quiz, and if you participated, I thank you kindly. For those who did not see it, you can find it here: Bibbles, Ratoons, And Bumfuzzles. Oh My! 

Well, instead of prattling on like a blatherskite, I’ll plunge right in. Please feel free to post your answers in the comments section.

Woopie: 

A: To declare oneself victorious, in spite of logical argument(s) brought forth by one’s opponent(s).

B: A beveled edged chisel used in nineteenth century cabinet making.

C: An affluent retired person able to pursue an active lifestyle.

D: A pie (any flavor) that is offered to another in order to win their affection. (shortened and derived from, To woo with pie).

 

Sockdolager: 

A: A forceful blow

B: A nineteenth century derogatory term for someone who begs for money or food on a wharf

C: To shun.

D: A mythical creature responsible for missing socks. It is believed to dwell in the linen traps of clothes dryers.

Winklepicker

A: Style of shoe or boot with a long pointed toe.

B: Another name for the threshing drum on a nineteenth century grain threshing machine.

C: The long claw on the middle toe of an African Wild Dog.

D: An ancient fairy who steals periwinkle flowers.

Erinaceaous 

A: The characteristic of excessive boldness.

B: A term used in marine biology to refer to the time period during which the Great Barrier Reef began to form.

C: A term used to describe someone attractive enough to resemble a goddess. This was derived from the goddess Eriu, the goddess of Irish Sovereignty.

D: A term that refers to something or someone who resembles a hedgehog.

There you have it. I will post the answers in the next blog. I challenge you, once again, to practice googlestraint and avoid searching online for the answers. Have fun!

Yes, she’s still confused. 🙂

 

 

 

 

 

Interview With Up And Coming Musician, Thomas Mastin

Woah, we’re half way there
Woah, livin’ on a prayer
Take my hand, we’ll make it I swear
Woah, livin’ on a prayer – Bon Jovi

These catchy lyrics by Bon Jovi could well describe my guest today. Meet Thomas Mastin, a young man of eighteen who is pursuing his dream of becoming a musician and a singer/songwriter. I’ve known Thomas since he was a child, from the time he started swinging those drumsticks in our church’s worship band. I’ve watched him grow as a musician and become what he is today. He’s a talented, dedicated artist who’s boldly stepped out from the comforts of quiet rural life and into the challenging, nomadic lifestyle of chasing a musical career.

Recently, I conducted an interview with Thomas and I’m going to share a snippet with you here. I admire anyone who has the courage to go after their dream and wish Thomas all the best in his pursuit.

It’s great to have you here today, thanks for taking the time away from your busy schedule to tell us a bit about yourself. The first question I have and that I’m sure others are wondering about, is how it all began. What inspired you to pursue this avenue?

Thomas: Growing up my dad was a farmer who also worked full-time at the local Good Year plant, and my mom was a teacher at the school I went to. I was brought up in a home where no one else had an interest in music. When I was around three or four, they noticed me drumming on pots and pans, or the floor, to music, so they would put me in lessons, but I didn’t like them. Around eight years old, my youth pastor, Dusty (Dustin) Crozier put me behind the drums at church and I took a liking to them.

You’re saying that Dusty was a major influence?

Thomas: Most people expect you to mention someone famous, but for me it was Dusty. And it wasn’t just drums, he taught me to sing and play guitar, even write my own music.

You mentioned several instruments, which one do you play the most?

Thomas: Well, that’s a tough one. My main instrument, at first, was drums, but I grew to hate playing them, so I switched to guitar for three or four years. Right now, I’m playing drums in a band in Florida, called Arbour Season.

So, you left home and began to play with this band. Can you tell me a bit more about it and the genre of music?

Thomas: They’re a married couple named Shane and Emily and when they were a two-member band, they played Pop. When I joined, they switched to Indie Folk and changed their name to Arbour Season. Getting a drummer helped them make the switch. Indie Folk, it’s very nostalgic. You hear it and you just want to drive through the mountains.

We’ve played summer festivals at Busch Gardens in Florida, gigs at Splitsville in Disney Springs, and Mother’s Restaurant in Tampa.

The plan is to, in February, hopefully go back to Florida for a month and then go on a full tour for a year across America non-stop. We want to stay on the road for a full year, just doing house shows, not even as many bar gigs, just singing in people’s living rooms. What we do is, well Shane does it, is message people and see if they want us to play in their homes, the only thing we ask is for a small donation.

Wow, that’s fascinating, I wasn’t aware that house shows are even a thing. What about you, personally, are you planning an album?

Thomas: Actually, they’re quite popular in America. Until I met Shane and Emily, I really didn’t know about much about them.

When on tour, I want to be writing the whole time. I want to have 100 songs done that I can pick five of. It’s a weird number, because usually it’s a four song EP (Extended Play). I want to put out a five or eight song EP, which is sometimes called a Freshman’s Album. That’s my biggest goal right now.

An EP is a step to an album. For instance, Shawn Mendes put out a four song EP and that was his introduction to his album. So, the next year, he wrote 100 more songs, picked ten and put it on a big album, and that was how he got out there.

I never realized the amount of labor that goes into an album. Unless you’re in the music industry, I don’t think you can appreciate all the background work. It has to be stressful. Do you have any routines that you do to help you relax?

Thomas: There are definitely things you do to deal with nerves, especially for a bigger show. One thing, for me, is that even though we may not be playing worship music, it helps me to know that this is still a ministry. I have certain people I will call, or Shane, Emily, and I will just talk or pray before we go on. Or sometimes I watch the show, The Flash (laughs). These just help me go on the stage relaxed.

Any inspirations for songs? Things that have happened in your life?

Thomas: I’ve written a couple of songs about how my past year has gone, with a duo that I was in called Compass North, that just came to an end. I think that if I put out an album in the next year, I think it will be focused on my faith in that situation, in the way that I’ve been guided through with God’s strength, my parents and my friends. That’s one of my inspirations, but even things that go on in my family and how my parents have been so supportive.

Just one last question before I let you get back to your music. Any advice for those following their musical aspirations?

Thomas: The whole thing with music, is that there are endless opportunities. You see all the famous people who have made it . . . I don’t think that should define how good of a career you have. It was hard for me to understand, but my parents keep reminding me that it shouldn’t be my main goal. Your main-focus should be on your love of music, not whether you are making a lot of money. Keep at it. I’ve been fortunate with the supportive people in my life. Get great people behind you.

Thomas Mastin lives on his family farm near Napanee, Ontario, Canada. He attends Roblin Weslyan Church and is committed to music, friends, family, and his Faith. In his spare moments, he enjoys playing and watching basketball.
If you would like to find out more about Thomas and Arbour Season, or would like to listen to and/or purchase their music, please visit one of the links below.

Thomas Mastin on Instagram

Thomas Mastin on Facebook

Arbour Season on Facebook

Arbourseason.com

Arbour Season on Youtube

Arbour Season on Spotify

Arbour Season on iTunes

Welcome to the WATCH “#RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RRBCWRW

Welcome! Today I have the privilege of hosting RWISA Author, Nonnie Jules!

A talented writer and supportive member of Rave Reviews Book Club, or RRBC.

Blog Tour Banners

Nonnie

Please feel free to comment or share.

EXCERPT FROM THE SEQUEL TO DAYDREAM’S DAUGHTER

(I’ve decided not to preface this piece with any details.  I’d like for the readers to try and “figure” out the direction this piece is going in.  Have fun!)


LEEZA

“Are you gonna buy me a drink or, are you just gonna sit there and stare at me?” Leeza asked the stranger at the bar.

“Uh, sure.  What are you drinking, pretty lady?”  Swirling to and fro, the man gripped the ridges of the bar to keep from falling from the bar stool.  “Hey, bartend, give this pretty lady what ‘er she wants and put it on my tab.”

Leeza looked him up and down.  Although not bad on the eyes, he didn’t strike her as a man with deep enough pockets to have a “tab” anywhere, but, who was she to judge?

“Vodka on the rocks,” she said, gesturing to the bartender.  When her suitor heard her request, his eyebrows shot up.

“Sure you can handle that strong of a drink, pretty lady?” he asked, still teetering.

“That’s not all I can handle.” Her suggestive wink was all the invitation the stranger needed to move a little closer, in spite of the fact that he could barely stand.

“So, what’s your name, pretty lady?” he slurred.

“Anything you want it to be, honey,” she replied.

“Really?  Well, I want your name to be Available.  So, are you?”

As he sat waiting for her response, she was reminded of her puppy, Scratches, paws perched on the windowsill, awaiting her return home from work.

“You gotta pay to play with me,” she nudged.

“Well, honey, you finish up that there drink of yours, and let’s head up to my room.  I’m in town on business and I would love the company of a beautiful woman going by the name…Available.”

In one fell swoop, she turned the glass up and the vodka was gone. The stranger’s eyes bulged again.  Clearly, he’d never seen a woman down a drink like that before.

Turning away from the bar and grabbing hold of his tie, Leeza led the way to the elevator of the hotel…the stranger following close behind, like a leashed dog.

“What’s your curfew, pretty lady?”

The elevator doors had only partially closed when she took her hand and grabbed his penis through his pants.

“I’m a big girl, single with no kids…does that sound like someone with a curfew?” she asked, as the ring of the elevator signaled their arrival to their destination.

Stumbling ahead of her, the stranger swiped his key and pushed opened the door.  Leeza walked past him, falling backward onto the bed.

“C’mon over here and let’s finish the party we started downstairs,” she said, kicking off her heels and propping her legs up on the bed…spread-eagle.

Balancing as he walked, the stranger stood over the bed with a huge grin plastered across his face.  Judging from the growing bulge inside of his pants, it was easy to discern that a grin awaited her there, too.

“C’mere.  You look as if you’re really happy to see me.” Leeza forcefully took him by the tie once again and pulled him on top of her.  When she began frantically unzipping his pants, he held her by the wrists to slow her down.

“Whoa, filly…what’s your hurry?  You said you didn’t have a curfew so why the rush?  Don’t you even wanna know my name?” he quizzed.

“Well, I thought your name was Ready since that’s the way you came across downstairs.”  Feeling a bit toyed with, Leeza’s smile exited. Being toyed with was the one feeling she hated most.

“You’re a funny one, aren’t cha?” he chuckled.  “Ok, well let’s ‘git to what we came here for!  By the way, my real name’s Jim.  Now tell me yours…”

“Nothing’s changed,” she whispered in his ear.  “I’m still…Available.”

Switching off the lamp, she proceeded to undress him by the orange glow of moonlight trickling through the window.   This was a typical night for Leeza;  raunchy sex with yet another man she didn’t know, nor cared to.  After a while, she just lay there and let him have his way.

Then, just as quickly as it had all begun, the party was over…at least, for her. The banging inside her head warned of the onslaught of another massive headache and there was no getting away from it.

Her enjoyment of the night’s events came to a screeching halt as the next one started to take over.

CHRISTY

Jim opened his eyes to a blonde pointing a gun in his face.  Startled, he scanned the room for the brunette he’d brought back with him the night before, but, she was nowhere to be found.

“Give me your wallet!” the blonde demanded.

“Who are you?  And, where is Available?” he asked, his eyes still searching.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about and I don’t want to know what you’re talking about, capiche?  My name is Christy and I’m not going to ask you again.  Give me…your wallet.”

Jim pointed to his clothes that he’d been stripped of the night before, strewn across the floor.  “You didn’t ask me the first time,” he said.  “My wallet’s in there. Take whatever you want, just get outta my damn room.”

Christy stooped to pick up the pants, throwing them at him; the gun, nor her eyes, hardly ever leaving the target as she moved.

“Hey, I don’t take orders from you. Remember that. Now give me everything in there that’s spendable.”

Jim snatched the bills from his wallet and threw them at her.  “Here, this is all I have,” he muttered, his tone laced with anger.

“I saw plastic.  I want those, too.  And don’t make the mistake again of throwing anything at me,” she warned, raising the gun to remind him who was in charge.

Jim mumbled something as he gently placed three credit cards on the bed.  Christy snatched the cards up and backed slowly towards the door.  Her hands had barely touched the door handle when she heard Jim yell, “Get out, you bitch!”

Pushing herself away from the door and calmly walking back over to the bed, she could see the fear which had quickly taken up residence in his eyes…the moment when he knew he had pushed too hard.

The growing smirk across her lips catapulted into a full-blown sneer as she lifted the gun to his head and pulled the trigger.

“Don’t you ever call me a bitch again.  I told you my name was Christy.”


Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.

 We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

Nonnie Jules

How would you like to become a RWISA Member so that you’re able to receive this same awesome FREE support? Simply click  HERE to make your application! 

 

 

 

Welcome to the WATCH “#RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour! #RRBC #RRBCWRW

Welcome! Today I have the privilege of hosting RWISA Author, Beem Weeks!

He is a talented writer and supportive member of Rave Reviews Book Club, or RRBC.

Blog Tour Banners

Beem

Please feel free to comment or share.

Nightly Traipsing

 

There might’ve been a dream. Or maybe not. Violet Glass really couldn’t recall. Probably, though. A dream concerning some stupid boy—or even a girl.

Whatever.

Can’t control what creeps through your sleep.

Her body stirred awake as the blackest part of night splashed its inky resolve across that part of Alabama.

Violet stared at the ceiling, tried like the dickens to recall a face, perhaps a voice—anything belonging to the one responsible for this latest agitation.

Nothing came through, though.

Even dead of night did little to lay low that sticky heat. Old-timers in town swore oaths affirming this, the summer of 1910, to be more oppressive than any other summer since before the war between the states.

Violet eased her body from her bed; the soles of her feet found cool the touch of creaking floorboards.

There’d be nobody to catch her—not at this hour.

Nobody, but Ruthie.

And Ruthie Sender?—she’d never let on of these doings.

Violet scampered through the kitchen, flung her blue-eyed gaze against the darkened parlor. Only shadows and silence bore witness to her planned escape, a girl’s nightly traipsing.

The back door gave up with only minor provocation.

Dripping moonlight splashed the yard with a silvery sheen; promising secrets lingered among the gathered glow.

Around the rear of the house she skulked, careful to hold close to the shadows, to remain hidden from the ones who’d blab, those others who’d hold it over her head for gain.

Back behind the barn she found her crouching spot, fell low to the ground, fixed sight on the direction of Ruthie Sender’s place a few hundred yards away. Traipsing just didn’t hold its fun without Ruthie tagging along.

Violet rushed her granddad’s cotton field without that hesitation she’d known only a summer earlier.

Shadows stirred and wiggled in the distance. Figures formed, made shapes around a low-burning fire. Even at the center of all that cotton, Violet could pick out words of songs sung by the coloreds, those kin to Ruthie Sender.

They sang about standing on wood, an old slave’s saying, drawing up recollections of a time they themselves belonged to someone else.

Belonged to Violet’s kin.

Wood smoke fogged the night air.

Violet hunched low, skirted the yard where those coloreds took up with their fire and song and whiskey. Friendly sorts, all of them. Always first with a kind word, an interest in Violet’s family, how the girl’s folks were getting on—even if that interest leaned toward pretend. But that’s the nature of the matter. It’s Violet’s great-granddad who’d once owned all those souls that gave creation to the very ones now singing and drinking.

She broke through shadows collected beneath an ancient willow tree, found respite behind the Sender family’s privy, and waited for the girl to either show or not show.

The colored girl’s legs appeared first, dangling from the pantry window, bare feet scrabbling at the air, searching for a solid thing to set down upon. The thud of her sudden drop wouldn’t wake anybody.

A dingy gray nightshirt clung to Ruthie’s body. Her dark-eyed gaze landed out where she knew to find Violet. If the girl offered a smile, it couldn’t be seen—not from this distance.

“Go out back of Tussel’s, maybe?” Ruthie asked, finding space in Violet’s shadow.

“Catch a strap across my butt, I get found by that saloon again,” Violet promised. “Daddy don’t say things twice.”

Ruthie said, “Chicken liver.”

Violet backed down a notch, weighed her options. “Who’s gonna be there?”

“Fella named Ferdinand something. Plays piano.” Ruthie tossed a nod toward those others out by the fire. “They won’t share us no whiskey.”

“Won’t share up to Tussel’s, neither—unless you got some money.”

*      *      *

They were born the same night, Violet and Ruthie, back during spring of 1895. Only a few measly hours managed to wedge in between them, separated the girls from being twins of a sort.

Close enough, though.

Ruthie came first—if her folks were to be believed.

“Where we going?” Violet asked, following after Ruthie’s lead.

“Lena Canu’s place,” said Ruthie.

“How come?”

“She got stuff to drink, mostly.”

Droplets of sweat ran relays along Violet’s spine, leaving the girl’s skin wet, clammy. “Awful hot, it is.”

“She a conjure woman,” Ruthie announced, laying her tone low, protected. “—Lena Canu, I mean.”

Midnight’s high ceiling lent sparse light to the path splitting the two properties. Violet’s kin, they’d once owned the entire lot. Her great-granddad, he’s the one took notion to make things right, gave half of his land to the slaves he turned loose after the war.

Ruthie’s kin, mostly.

Senders and Canus.

Couldn’t ever really make a thing like that right, though.

A small cabin squatted in the brush; the orange glow of a lamp shined in the window. Used to be a slave’s shack, this one here.

Moonlight dripped on the colored girl’s face, showed it round and smooth, lips full and perfect, eyes alive with life and mischief. “Gonna see does she have any drink.”

Violet leaned closer, her bare arms feeling the other girl’s heat. She asked, “Can she tell fortunes?”

“Like reading a book.”

That dark door yawned wide; Lena Canu peered into the night. “I’ll tell your fortune, white girl,” she said.

Ruthie gave a nudge, guided Violet up the walk and into the shack.

A table and four chairs congregated at the center of the bare space. Kerosene fed a flame dancing like the devil atop the glass lamp. A pallet in a corner threw in its lot with the scene.

Lena Canu tossed a nod toward her rickety table. “Have you a seat, now,” she ordered, “—both of you.”

Violet sat first. Ruthie found perch across from her friend. Beneath the table naked feet bumped and rubbed, each girl assuring the other this would be a good turn.

“You one of them Glass girls, ain’t you?” Lena asked, dropping onto a chair of her own.

Violet said, “Yes, ma’am.”

Lena waved her off. “Ain’t no ma’am. Call me Lena, is all. You the one runs wild.” A pronouncement rather than a question.

Ruthie asked, “You got any liquor?”

A clear pint bottle came into the moment; its bitter amber liquid promised that sort of burn a person won’t mind.

Each girl drew off a long pull, let the heat mingle with their blood. Neither girl had ever gone full-on drunk; only a swig or two is all they ever dared.

Lena Canu, conjuring woman, spread a pile of bones over the table and commenced to ciphering future happenings a girl might need to know.

Things about boys and marriage didn’t come up. Neither did mention of babies and such. All Violet heard portended mainly to trouble.

“Quit you runnin’ wild,” Lena proclaimed, “and you be just fine.” She took up her narrow gaze again, aimed to settle matters. “But you keep doin’ what you been doin’, things gonna go bad.”

The suddenness of gunfire echoed through that sticky air. Three quick shots chased by a lazy fourth that staggered along a moment later.

Lena jumped first, ran for the door. Ruthie followed after, peering into the dark, no doubt expecting to put a face to the one pulled that trigger.

Violet remained stuck to her chair, attentions tugging between the matters outside and those sayings left to her by that conjuring woman. Did she really believe in such things, or was it all just a mess of nonsense?

“What am I gonna do to make things go bad?” she asked, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to know—just in case.

But Lena had other notions to work over. “Sounds like they come from over to your place,” she said to Ruthie.

Ruthie tipped a nod, said, “Could be they gettin’ liquored up too much, huh?”

“Might could,” answered Lena.

It happens that way, boys and their whiskey, wandering along crooked paths of discontent, blabbing things not really meant for harm—just boasting, is all.

But boasting to a drunken fella is as good as a punch on his nose.

“Gonna go see,” said Ruthie, pushing past the threshold, pressing on toward home.

Violet held her ground, let the colored girl disappear in the night. Attentions ceased their tugging, settled on the one making proclamations concerning bad manners and trouble to come.

Lena came loose of her thoughts, brought one to words, said, “Go on home now, white girl. Nighttime belongs to devils.”

            *

Clouds laid a brief smudge against the moon, stripped its shine right off the night, left Violet to wonder if it really might be footsteps stumbling along behind her, following that same narrow path toward home.

“Fool boys,” she muttered, tossing nervous glances over either shoulder.

Footfalls fell heavy—like boots hammering the earth. An eager thing born of desperation.

Violet bolted left, squatted low behind a pile of brush that had the makings of a snake shelter. She held her breath and waited for the one at her back to pass on by.

A piece of tree limb came to her hand, a long and heavy thing, able to put a soul right should he come at her with wrong intentions.

That smudged moon went shiny again, dripped light across the path, showed off the shape of a man loping toward home. Tall and thin, this one; he moved quick with purpose.

Going the wrong way, though, Violet thought, waiting for the man to pass.

She gained her feet, charged his retreat, swung that heavy piece of wood and caught that interloper straight between his shoulders.

“Jay-zus!” the man hollered, hitting the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“This is private property!” Violet informed him, fixing up for a second swing.

The fella pulled up on his knees, tried to reach for that spot on his back no doubt gone swollen. He said, “It’s private property only ’cause I say so.”

Foolishness seeped into the girl. She squinted against the dark, drew recollection of his face. “Granddad?” she said, hoping her recollections proved wrong.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded, giving his legs a try.

“Came out to use the privy,” she fibbed. “Heard gunshots, came to see, is all.”

“Liar!” the old man spat. “You been gallivanting again, ain’t you?” He moved closer to the girl, sized her up, made a big fuss over her running around in only a nightshirt and nothing else. “Your daddy’s gonna hit ya where the good Lord split ya—then he’s gonna move you to your sister’s room upstairs. Won’t be no sneaking out from there.”

Her gaze caught that glint at his waistband, a familiar hunk of blued steel. “Don’t matter,” she said. “Daddy’s gonna put you in the county home.”

“On account of what?”

“On account of you’re going senile, traipsing off, bothering colored folks again with that pistol of yours.” Violet leaned closer, continued her spiel. “Heard him and Mama talking just last week, saying how you’re a danger to yourself just as much as to others.”

The old man’s jaw fell open and slammed shut; intended words went lost to the night. He couldn’t tell on her now—not without personal risk.

Defeat fogged his eyes. “I won’t tell your business if you don’t tell mine.”

Violet seized the moment with both hands. “That depends,” she informed him.

“On what?”

“Who’d you shoot tonight?”

“Nobody. Just meant to scare, is all.”

“Gonna kill somebody one day—if you ain’t already.”

“Ain’t in my blood, killin’.”

“Don’t have to mean it to do it.”

The old man pulled back, let frustration have its way. “We got a deal or don’t we?”

“You gonna leave Ruthie’s people be?”

“Just want what’s mine,” he complained.

“But it’s their land, Granddad—been so for forty-five years. A hundred guns ain’t gonna make it not so.”

He never did wear misery well.

Violet’s arms went easily around the man. She pulled close to him, breathed in that familiar odor of sweat and tobacco.

He said, “I won’t bother them no more.”

“Then we have us a deal.”

Thank you for supporting this member along the WATCH “RWISA” WRITE Showcase Tour today!  We ask that if you have enjoyed this member’s writing, please visit their Author Page on the RWISA site, where you can find more of their writing, along with their contact and social media links, if they’ve turned you into a fan.

 We ask that you also check out their books in the RWISA or RRBC catalogs.  Thanks, again for your support and we hope that you will follow each member along this amazing tour of talent!  Don’t forget to click the link below to learn more about this author:

Beem Weeks

How would you like to become a RWISA Member so that you’re able to receive this same awesome FREE support? Simply click  HERE to make your application!