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Submitted to Contest #319
The Spice of Death I rushed into Minneapolis General SICU and almost bumped into Felicia Gainer. The gray-haired nurse stared down at me out of cold blue eyes. I forced a smile. “Well, if it ain’t our perky little Georgia peach, Lucy Connors,” she said. “What’s it been? Ten months? Thought you’d gone back to Atlanta after having the baby.” “Wasn’t in the cards.” “Because you’re broke, I’ll bet. Is it true your husband moved in with his tennis partner?” I sucked in a breath. Even for her, this was low. His attractive ebony face alight, the ...
Submitted to Contest #299
Uncle Hank’s Headache One hot afternoon in 1967, Aunt Beverly parked the elementary school bus at our house and started checking under the seats for stray kids. She drove for Uncle Hank when he had a headache. As I helped my three-year-old cousin down the steps, Uncle Hank strolled out of the house. I was amazed to see him. He usually kept to himself in the garage. “Hey girls, come see my baby boa constrictor.” He held up a shiny gray snake about two feet long. Terry Ann ran to him. “Lemme hold the worm, Daddy.” Aunt Beverly ru...
Submitted to Contest #291
The Rougarou Raylan Stone was installing a strut on a Toyota when I burst into the Texaco station. I ducked under the lift, slipped in a patch of oil, and cracked my head on the garage floor. “Mais là, Delilah Jane, are you pining for a concussion?” The handsome Cajun scooped me up and set me on a stack of tires. He wiped grease off his hands and gently palpated the back of my head. “You’re not bleeding, chère, but there’s a lump. You might’ve cracked your skull.” Holding my throbbing head, I mumbled, “I’m just dizzy.” “Why’d you bust in...
Submitted to Contest #290
The Headache Sometimes the brightest medical minds shake their collective noggins, pat you on the knee, and hurry out before you ask questions they can’t answer. This was the second time they’d entombed me in the CT scanner. The bang bang banging was making my head implode. I didn’t cotton to the idea of letting them poison me if they found cancer. If ice packs and aspirin couldn’t cure my constant headache, I’d totter up to heaven or wherever they send women who are plumb sick of being sick. I punched the panic button. Before Keisha Jack...
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