My first online story was up in the September “Villians” Issue of Crossed Genres Magazine. Here’s an excerpt:
The pang of hunger is bitter, sharp, hot – familiar even. I don’t sleep. My feet and right hip ache from carrying the child up and down the sidewalks of this unforgiving city – this city that was supposed to take me within its bosom, cradle and rear me until I became its fully grown citizen. Imelba from down the hall has showed me her claim to this place – a card bearing a melancholy photograph of her, her name and some random numbers. It is the word PERMANENT that I notice most.
There is no need for the Creole translation of the English word I’ve spent my whole life running from. Taking with me what little I have to this village and that valley in my native country. Escaping the sleepless ones, the curious ones, the accusatory ones whose only evidence was the dawning sun and crowing rooster greeting their lifeless infant. In rural Haiti where hospitals are like the mountains beyond the mountains, and herbalists are a mix of scientific superstition, my sudden relocation from wherever I came to such a remote and destitute corner of the country gives way to suspicion and blame for the death of a newborn.
So I move, always. The brim of my large straw hat shields the deathly whiteness of my eyes days after I’ve had my fill.
You can read the rest here. Enjoy!