I wake, real fast, my heart beatin' like crazy. I can feel it in my neck, in my chest, in my thumb. My face is wet, drips a sweat drippin' down my cheeks, an' my covers are kicked off- to the very back a my bed. I breathin' real hard, my arms still feelin' like they got his blood all over 'em. Red- jus' like my own.
I try to blink the images away, leavin' that image to my dream world, seein' the present. I concentrate on the sharp window, with curtains, a silky blue, drawn over them to prevent the moon light from gettin' in here. To its left- there the closet, pulled shut. But I can imagine jus' what inside like it open, all the dresses my daddy's gotten me- in order of color, an' then my shoes an' bonnets an' corsets.
Jus' in front of my closets closed doors is my dressin' curtain- there to dress behind, an' a mirror next to that. Pieces of jewelry hang on the nooks in the wall, 'cept the very special pieces that hide in my closet.
But even lookin' at all this, even describin' in detail wha' I see everyday, ain't enough. I can still see Lloyd holdin' the rifle, an' shootin' blindly 'till he hit Samuel. He got a scary look on his face, even once Samuel dead- his heart fast, then slow, then gone. I remember the tears on my face- fresh like they still there, an' they were real. An' then I remember feelin' so disgusted with myself that I even cared. Lloyd was disgusted too.
I think of fallin' back to sleep- but then I decide that there ain't even no use tryin'. I'll never be able to forget my dream, nightmare, tonight at least. Mind as well be up. I change inta mo' appropriate clothin', an' head downstairs. No one there, but I expected that, I expected that it much to late fo' no one to be up. It probably 'bout the time I should be meetin' Samuel. I even head fo' the door, shoes on my feet, jacket rapped 'round by shoulders. But then I turn 'round. I don' wanna see 'em.
I end up in the kitchen. I dunno why it the place where I go- with the study an' the livin' room right near by- much mo' comfy. But I jus' stay standin', leanin' up against the counter, tryin' to think of sompin' to think 'bout.
No matter how much I try- I can only think two thoughts. One 'bout my dream, an' one 'bout James. An' I refuse to think 'bout Samuel's death, an' Lloyd's face. So I turn to my brother. I get out a pencil, too tired to think of an' ink an' quill, an' a piece a paper. I begin the letter- thought I don' really kno' where to start. An' I don' really kno' how to spell, or write anythin'.
Deer Jamez,
I do 'no tat I stil mis yous. Sory I ain' ritten yous yet. I jus done no wha to say.
I try to blink the images away, leavin' that image to my dream world, seein' the present. I concentrate on the sharp window, with curtains, a silky blue, drawn over them to prevent the moon light from gettin' in here. To its left- there the closet, pulled shut. But I can imagine jus' what inside like it open, all the dresses my daddy's gotten me- in order of color, an' then my shoes an' bonnets an' corsets.
Jus' in front of my closets closed doors is my dressin' curtain- there to dress behind, an' a mirror next to that. Pieces of jewelry hang on the nooks in the wall, 'cept the very special pieces that hide in my closet.
But even lookin' at all this, even describin' in detail wha' I see everyday, ain't enough. I can still see Lloyd holdin' the rifle, an' shootin' blindly 'till he hit Samuel. He got a scary look on his face, even once Samuel dead- his heart fast, then slow, then gone. I remember the tears on my face- fresh like they still there, an' they were real. An' then I remember feelin' so disgusted with myself that I even cared. Lloyd was disgusted too.
I think of fallin' back to sleep- but then I decide that there ain't even no use tryin'. I'll never be able to forget my dream, nightmare, tonight at least. Mind as well be up. I change inta mo' appropriate clothin', an' head downstairs. No one there, but I expected that, I expected that it much to late fo' no one to be up. It probably 'bout the time I should be meetin' Samuel. I even head fo' the door, shoes on my feet, jacket rapped 'round by shoulders. But then I turn 'round. I don' wanna see 'em.
I end up in the kitchen. I dunno why it the place where I go- with the study an' the livin' room right near by- much mo' comfy. But I jus' stay standin', leanin' up against the counter, tryin' to think of sompin' to think 'bout.
No matter how much I try- I can only think two thoughts. One 'bout my dream, an' one 'bout James. An' I refuse to think 'bout Samuel's death, an' Lloyd's face. So I turn to my brother. I get out a pencil, too tired to think of an' ink an' quill, an' a piece a paper. I begin the letter- thought I don' really kno' where to start. An' I don' really kno' how to spell, or write anythin'.
Deer Jamez,
I do 'no tat I stil mis yous. Sory I ain' ritten yous yet. I jus done no wha to say.
