Ain’t saying nothin’, Ronnie tells himself. He jounces anxiously in his seat, breathing through his nose; the bus passes the Rite-Aid on Greenwood. Never did. He never called nobody no nigger, not since that one time in school and got in trouble. Don’t say the n-word. You can’t. But they call white people names. Back in school they did him: Whitey, whiteass motherfucker, pecker, what was it? Peckerwood. Retard special ed white boy, they called him. They were in LD too, but he always was the one they picked on. Not just n-word, white kids Continue reading Blessings by Pete Risley →

A fierce swelling on her forehead, where the squat and grinning man had struck her, throbbed with pain. The hood of the trunk pressed hard against her upward left side, and her hands were bound cruelly tight behind her. Her eyes were open, but the darkness was total. Facing the torturous end of everything, she was alone, more so than ever. Within her Continue reading In A Lonely Place by Pete Risley →