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Weekly Contest #259
Vera arrived on the hottest night in July, when neon purple clouds split the evening sky like rips in a pillow. Cicadas, thousands of them, sang their shrieking elegy in the black trees surrounding the porch. My legs and arms were sticky with sweat. Our air conditioning was still out since Henry Landry had heard what Papa was doing and decided he didn’t want any part of what was happening in ‘that house.’ And everyone knew Henry Landry had a mouth on him like a bass fish and so soon the news spread through the town like a virus. A pair of he...
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