Dear reader: A political satire of "woke" white people, particularly woke white women. Definitely not to everyone's taste. Intended to be humorous. Skip if offended by the notion of a white gal mind-controlling her white boyfriend to service a black dude. But quaff heartily if the idea gets you hot. Adam ********* SCENE 1 [Setting: A spacious but d...
I've got an itch that needs scratching. A desire, a lust. It's been slowly burning in me all week and now it's a blazing fire in me. It's filled my mind and thoughts all week, distracting me from my work. It's my addiction, it's my drug. A few people understand. Some publically, some privately like me. You see my friends and family wouldn't understand. Their...
What I am about to write here is part confession and part catharsis. However, it isn't something I feel guilty about because it was forced on me. I would never have chosen to do the things I was made to do on that warm night in May 1865. What I do feel guilty about, what I do need confess is that I can't seem to stop repeatedly committing those acts. You'll...
"I know you got somebody in there, Jamal." Terrell said, buttonholing his friend on the steps of the building. "You don't know nothing. You hearing things. Told you to stay off of that PCP shit." Jamal said, bending over to retie his shoe. "What the fuck you doing spying on me anyway, dog?" "Who's spying? I can't walk past your window anymore? Maybe you sh...
This story is dedicated to all the real Super Heroes of our time - The Service men and women of our Armed Forces and First Responders. This story is a work of pure fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or l...
"You know, I've never really thought about it," my mom was saying. "Come on. That can't be true." We sat on metal folding chairs, crammed side-by-side under the keyboard tray of her small desk. "Well..." she said, staring blankly at the cluttered bulletin board above the monitor, "I suppose it's not. Anyway, I've never given a lot of thought to it. Jus...
Straw and Kabul They fell into an easy rhythm in the thatched cottage. Food appeared at the door each morning. Prize carried water and cleaned the well furnished rooms. He fed and watered the mare in the small stable though the odor of damp straw riddled him with fear. He knelt at Gordy's side as he read or worked at his desk. They moved to the bedroom up...