White Daffodils


© Nichel Anderson
Articles in this Topic    Discussions in this Topic

May 2, 1934. Harlem, New York City...

The smell of the old garbage came rushing in to hide the the rising stints of the room. However, it didn't keep my hands from trembling as I held the gun tightly like my dear life was still at question. The smelly garbage from outside seemed to allow me to blink for focus buy my eyes continued to well up out of fear. As my ripped blouse hung loose on my left shoulder, I let out a gasp of uncontrollable emotion.

I couldn't stop the replay of what just happen in this room all I could do was hold onto the gun and stare down at Mr. Smithson. I continued to breathe harder and harder as though racing to catch each breathe. I knew I had to get out of her and fast but where would I go. All I could do was hold on to the gun and stare at Mr. Smitson.

The foul smell of the garbage outside came in like a tidal wave.

I dropped the gun and searched for my purse and started for the door. All of a sudden, I heard voices outside coming towards the door. I immediately backed up clutching my my purse closer to my chest as my heart beated like a race car. Sweat trickled down my forehead like streams of a rapid river stream. I held my breath as the sound of voices came closer and closer.

I eyed the door knob that seemed to hold my destiny in its existence. When for the most oddest reason, the vase on a nearby table filled with white daffodils commanded my attention in the hot steamy room.

I surrendered.


Three hours later...at Mama's Place on 132nd street.

"How much longer are you going to be girl?" Mama yelled at the closed dark brown door. The running water was the only sound still dancing in the wind. Mama shook her head trying to failure out why Sasha walked hurriedly past the kitchen area without speaking.

Suddenly, the running water stopped and the silence sealed the air in a weird way. Chills seemed to evaded Mama's arms, and she started to shake for a strong feeling came over her that something was not right. The door slowly crept open and then there was Sasha. The light in the bathroom was off but Mama saw Sasha's eyes they were bloodshot and Sasha was shaking like a leaf on a fall day.

Go To Page: 1 2 3


Post this Article to facebook Add this Article to del.icio.us! Digg this Article furl this Article Add this Article to Reddit Add this Article to Technorati Add this Article to Newsvine Add this Article to Windows Live Add this Article to Yahoo Add this Article to StumbleUpon Add this Article to BlinkLists Add this Article to Spurl Add this Article to Google Add this Article to Ask Add this Article to Squidoo


Here's the follow-up discussion on this article: View all related messages

6.   Oct 14, 2002 7:56 AM
In response to message posted by pamela_saint:

Hi Pamela,

Thank you for kind comments on my story story and on the title. ...


-- posted by Nichel


5.   Oct 14, 2002 7:54 AM
In response to message posted by Sunbear:

Hi Tom,

Thanks for stopping and reading White Daffodils. Glad you enjoyed my fi ...


-- posted by Nichel


4.   Oct 14, 2002 7:52 AM
In response to message posted by cmborris:

Hi Cynthia,

It is so nice to hear from you and I am so glad that you read my ...


-- posted by Nichel


3.   Oct 10, 2002 3:48 AM
Nichel,

You have an enviable gift for building a plot--as plot in my own writing eludes me every time--and for picking titles! ...


-- posted by pamela_saint


2.   Oct 9, 2002 8:47 PM
Hi Nichel,

Well, this was certainly intersting, and something of a change for you.

Looking forward to the next installments. Love the title and how you arrived at it.

Tom ...


-- posted by Sunbear





Join the latest discussions

For a complete listing of article comments, questions, and other discussions related to Nichel Anderson's Writing from Harlem topic, please visit the Discussions page.