A Crazy Thing Happened at a Funeral

Sarah Gitter was ushering at Devion Haule's funeral. The funeral was being held at her church, Greater Restoration Temple. She was still trying to figure out why she had volunteered to work the funeral. She kept telling herself that she was doing the work of the Lord, but her feet were hurting and she wanted to sit down some where.

The funeral was scheduled to start at 1:00 PM, so she had to be at the church at 11:30 to help set up for the funeral. People had started arriving for the funeral at 12:00. She had been standing up for an hour, handing out programs and escorting people to their seats.

It had been rumored that Devion was a member of a gang, but no one had any proof of that. From the looks of some of the guys coming to the funeral, it may have been true. Sarah had never seen so many guys in over-sized jeans and shirts at the church. Several of them had to be asked to remove their do-rags and hats. As Sarah escorted the young men to their seats, she prayed for each one.

The funeral went according to the program. Sarah kept silently wishing that the viewing of the body would have been at the beginning of the funeral rather than at the end of the funeral.

The preacher preached a sermon that would have caused the biggest sinner sitting in the congregation to come to the Lord. After his sermon, the preacher had an altar call that was full of young men and women crying out to God. It was an amazing site.

It was finally time for the funeral procession to begin. Sarah took a long deep breath and got ready to escort each row down the aisle.

Row by row, person by person, people went to view the body. Only on or two people cried. No one fell out. No one needed help to walk back to their seat. Sarah was happy, but scared at the same time. They were getting closer to the family rows. That was going to be the true test of her salvation.

There were five rows that held the family. Sarah had reached the first row of family members. Most of the people had started to cry. The first row walked to view the body without incident. Sarah blew a deep breath.

The second row stood up. The people in this row were crying louder than the people on the previous row. Several people were being held up by someone else. Sarah had to catch a young lady who almost fell down as she walked out into the aisle. A couple of people in the third row had started to wail before the people in the second row were through looking at the body.

The third row stood up. They were crying and bawling even louder than the second row as if they were in a contest to see who could cry the loudest. Most of the people from this row walked down the aisle holding someone else. Several people could barely walk without help. A tall muscular young man was crying so hard that two of the funeral home workers had to help carry him down the aisle to view the body.

The fourth row stood up. Two ladies had to sit back down because they were weeping. One young man was aggressively trying to get people from making him go view the body, but some old lady kept trying to make him go.

Finally, Sis. Corinth, the head of the usher board and Sarah's co-usher for the day said, "Leave him alone. You all just go."

After the lady left the young man sitting on the seat, he fell over and moaned as he lay down on the seat.

It was time for the fifth and final row to view the body. These people were the main relatives of the deceased. They were his mother, father, sisters, and brothers. This was always the hardest row for Sarah to do because these were the people who usually had the hardest time viewing the body.

The first person on the row went to view the body. This older man stared at the deceased young man and cried for a few minutes and then went back to his seat. Next, a young lady was escorted up to the body by an older woman. The older woman was okay.

She looked at Devion and said, "Good bye, son."

The young lady fell over on the body and began howling. Sarah and Sis. Corinth went over to help the older lady with the young lady.

Sis. Corinth looked at the older lady and said, "We can hold. You can go have a seat."

The older lady reluctantly let the young lady go and headed back to her seat. The young lady cried for a long time. Sarah looked at Sis. Corinth. Sis. Corinth looked at Sarah. They both knew to pray for the young lady that they were trying to hold up. Sarah looked down at the body. The young lady had begun to slobber on the body. Sarah blew a long deep breath and then nodded at Sis. Corinth. Sis. Corinth looked down at the body. She shook her head and asked one of the funeral home workers to get her some Kleenex. The funeral home worker handed Sarah the Kleenex. Sarah wiped the slobber off of the body as she held the young lady up.

Finally, Sis. Corinth said, "Let's take her back to her seat."

Sarah complied with the order that was given to her. The other people on the last row viewed the body, each one wailing loudly. Finally, the last person had viewed the body. Sarah took a breath. It was almost over.

The funeral home workers walked up to the casket and began closing the casket. As the casket was closed, people began weeping, wailing, and howling like crazy.


Sarah shook her head and thought, "Lord, will this ever be over."

The Wedding Coordinator

Evan Smith was one of the deacons on call for a wedding that was being held at the Friendship Cathedral Church. He would not have normally been at the church for a wedding, but it was his week to open up the church. He usually managed to avoid working weddings at the church. He preferred to work the funerals that were held at the church.

He shook his head as he began to make his third walk through. About every 20 minutes, the deacon in charge was supposed to walk the hallways, the vestibule, and the sanctuary to ensure that everyone was in the right place and doing the right things. So far, things were going good.

Evan had worked at wedding or two before this and usually something crazy would eventually happen. He had been praying that this wedding would be different.

In the back of his mind, he kept hearing, "Man, this is gonna be a crazy one and you know it. It's gonna be a crazy one."

He knew that kept going through his mind because his sister had said, "You know you gotta tell me what happens today," before he left the house.

Evan kept hoping for the best, but he was ready for the worst.

Evan turned up the long hallway of the church. The wedding coordinator was walking down the hallway towards him. She had too much stuff in her hands.

Evan shook his head as he thought, "Why does she have all of that stuff in her hands? She is going to drop something."

As she got closer to Evan, he began to look down at the floor. He did not want to look directly at the woman because he would have been staring at the wrong part of her anatomy. She had on a low cut blouse and she wasn't leaving much to Evan's imagination.

The woman smile at Evan as she got closer to him. He quickly smiled at her and then went back to looking at the floor. The wedding coordinator dropped some of the stuff that was in her hands. She uttered an expletive. Startled at what he had heard the woman say in the house of God, Evan looked up at the woman. The coordinator bent over to pick up her stuff. As Evan watched the woman, her GIRLS popped out of her blouse as if they were supposed to do that. The woman, unmoved, popped her GIRLS back into their rightful place, picked her stuff up off the floor, and walked down the hallway pasted Evan as if nothing had happened.


Evan stood speechless in the hallway for a few minutes. Once he regained his composure, he looked around to see if anyone else was in the hallway with him. He could not believe that he was the only who had witnessed the scene that had just unfolded. Evan shook himself out of the daze he was in. He started laughing so hard that he had to lean up against the wall to keep from falling over. No one was going to believe the story that he had to tell.

A Day In The Life of Mazani McDaniels

Mazani McDaniels looked at himself in the mirror. He was looking good today. He stretched himself so that he stood his full six feet tall. He stroked his neatly trimmed goatee as he admired his raw umber skin. He flexed his toned chest muscles. He smiled at himself in the mirror. His hard work at the gym was finally starting to pay off. He was beginning to get some definition in his muscle. He was beginning to see the chest line forming down the middle of his chest. He couldn't wait until the summer time so that he could show off his new muscles.

Mazzi, as he was called, wiped his feet on the rug in front of the sink before exiting the bathroom to his bedroom. He looked down at his feet. The rest of him was perfect, but his feet were jacked up. His skin was cracked. His toe nails never seemed to grow right. He had corns on his little toes.

Mazzi thought to himself, "Why did I have to wear my brother's hand-me-down, too tight shoes?"

Mazzi quickly whipped the towel from around his waist and threw it on the bed. He went to his closet and grabbed some clothes. Today was going to be a good day.

Mazzi smiled as he walked out of his apartment building. It was 7:00 in the morning, so he knew that the ladies who lived in his building would be walking outside to leave for work. Mazzi didn't have to be at work until 10:00, but he liked to go outside at seven and run around the apartment complex to get his cardio workout. Actually, Mazzi just liked to have the ladies gawking at him.

Mazzi was outside stretching on the end of the stairwell when Shelia walked down the stairs. She stared at his rear end as he was bending over. Mazzi could feel the woman staring at him, so he stayed posed in that position a few extra seconds to let Shelia get a good look.

Finally, he stood up and said, "Hi. Ms. Shelia. Have a good day at work."

Shelia smiled at him wickedly and responded, "You too." She switched to her car.

Mazzi was about to start his run when Cassandra walked up to her car from the adjoining apartment building.

She stopped by Mazzi and said, "You are starting to look good."

Mazzi smiled, "What do you mean starting?"

Cassandra laughed, "You need to quit it."

Mazzi laughed as he said, "Have a good day at work."

Cassandra said, "You, too," as she walked off.

Mazzi started his jog. People often reprimanded him these days because of his "over confidence" in himself, but he knew differently. Only four years earlier, Mazzi was a scrawny kid that everyone used to tease by calling him Angel Hair, after the thin pasta bearing the same name. He grew tired of being called that a enrolled in a gym and began working on his body. He wasn't over confident. He was self-confident. He finally felt good about his body.

He still had his flaws, though. He talked with a lisp. When he got nervous or excited, his lisp got work. He normally talked slowly because that was the only way that his lisp wasn't so obvious, but that only caused people to mock him because he talked so slowly. Mazzi was working on this aspect of himself. He had an excellent speech therapist who was working with him. The only thing that Mazzi wanted to change was to make the process go faster. That was his other weakness, he had no patience.

***

Mazzi was walking to his apartment building from his car. He had a long day at work and he was very tired. He just wanted to go lie down on his couch and watch Sports Center on ESPN. Everything at work had gone crazy; reports were missing, files weren't in the right places, and the printer broke in the middle of printing out a document that he needed for a meeting. He was about ready to scream.

Mazzi had made about ten steps when he heard Mrs. Fisher yell his name. He blew a long exasperated breath before he smiled and then turned towards the elderly lady. Mazzi liked Mrs. Fisher. She was always nice to him whenever she saw him. She was a nice old lady.

Mazzi walked towards Mrs. Fisher and said, "Hello, Mrs. Fisher. What do you need?" when he reached her

She said, "I need a little help with the bags. This little old lady got a happy at the grocery store and bought more than she could handle."

Mazzi smiled and grabbed the bags from Mrs. Fisher's car. He did not mind helping the old lady. He did not mind helping anyone at all.

Mazzi finished carrying the groceries to Mrs. Fisher's apartment.

Mrs. Fisher smiled at him, squeezed his cheek, and then said, "You sure are a sweet young man. We need more young men in the world like you."

Mazzi smiled and left Mrs. Fisher's apartment.

Mazzi walked into his apartment. He could tell that his cousin was at the house because the smell of popcorn filled the house. Mazzi's 18 year-old cousin, Caroline Melton, was staying with him for awhile. She was having problems with her stepmother again. Caroline's father was on his fourth or fifth wife, Mazzi had lost count. Caroline's mother died tragically in a store robbery. Caroline saw the whole incident occur, so she had some emotional problems.

Caroline's father did not help the situation either. He was an old school playa at least that is what he said of himself. Most people just thought of him as an old man driving a sports car, dressing like a young cat, and having a wife much too young for him. Wenzburg Melton, Mad Milt, as he was called, was pushing close to 65 years of age. He had a wife that was 24 years old. No wonder Caroline and her stepmother argued on a regular basis. Caroline, who was sweet as she could be until you upset her, had tried to live with her stepmother, but her stepmother made impossible demands on Caroline. The woman wanted Caroline out of the house. The evil woman had told Milt on more than one occasion, but Milt was too busy being a playa to even address the situation. His household was going down the drain and he was out clubbing night after night.

Mazzi walked into the living room and smiled at Caroline who was lying on the couch eating popcorn and watching some music video.

Mazzi said, "What's up, Cuz?"

Caroline looked up at Mazzi and said, "Nothing."

Mazzi laughed, that was his cousin for you. He walked into his bedroom, closed the door, and changed into his workout clothes. He needed to go workout to let the day roll off of him.

Mazzi shook his head as he reached for the toilet paper. It did not roll from over the top like it was supposed to. He grunted and muttered something he should not have under his breath.

Caroline was forever putting the toilet paper on the roll wrong. She put the toilet paper on the roll so that it rolled from the bottom down. Everyone with any sense knew that the toilet paper should roll from the bottom under; at least that is how Mazzi felt about it.

Mazzi flexed his newly developed biceps. He was starting to look good. He finished in the bathroom and headed into the living room. His 18 year old cousin, Caroline was in her usual spot, lying on the couch eating popcorn.

Mazzi walked over in front of Caroline, obstructing her view of the TV. "Dang, Mazz. Get out of the way. You ain't made of glass."

Mazzi did not move. He said, "How many times do I have to tell you to put the toilet paper on the roller the right way?"

Caroline smiled, "You are too anal, man. I be forgetting, ok."

Mazzi made a face, "It's I forget, not I be forgetting."

Caroline laughed, "Whatever. I forget sometimes. Geez, does it matter which way the toilet paper rolls anyway?"

Mazzi huffed, "Yes, it does."

Caroline made a face and switched sides on the couch so that she could see the TV. Mazzi moved in front of Caroline. Caroline threw a pillow at Mazzi.

Mazzi picked the pillow up, "Quit throwing my stuff around. You need to put the toilet paper of the roller the right way."

Caroline made a face, "I guess that's an order then."

Mazzi blew a breath, "Do you have a better suggestion?"

Caroline said, "Yes, I do. Just sit the roll of toilet paper on the back of the commode. That would solve the whole thing."

Mazzi laughed, "You are crazy. Okay, let's do that." That was that, the toilet paper dilemma was solved.

Mazzi had been fighting with Caroline about everything in the apartment all day. She put the toilet paper on the roll wrong. She left the bread open. She left the peanut butter sitting out on the counter, opened with a knife sticking in it. Mazzi was about ready to scream. He walked into the living room again and stared at Caroline.

Caroline looked up at Mazzi, "What do you want now?"

Mazzi glared at Caroline and held the tube of toothpaste out so that she could se it.

Caroline huffed, "Is it your time of the month or something? You have been cranky all day."

Mazzi stared at Caroline for a few seconds, and then said, "The toothpaste should be squeezed from the bottom up, not in the middle of the tube. If you squeeze it from the bottom up, you will get more toothpaste out of the tube and the tube will be more presentable. Squeezing the tube from the middle wastes toothpaste; you know I can't stand to waste things. Squeeze the toothpaste from the bottom up; that is the proper way to do it."

Caroline laughed at Mazzi as she went back to watching her TV show. Mazzi knew that his speech had fallen on deaf ears.

This Much Is Known...

The news reporter stated, "This much is known about the robbery, there were two men in masks. Both men were carrying guns. They absconded with over $1500 from the gas station. The police are currently looking for witnesses to the crime. If you know anything, please call the Appel Police Department."

Dora Jones could not believe the news report. Her friend, Stacey Clark, was in the other room counting the money.

Stacey yelled from the other room, "It wasn't $500. It was more like $950. People can lie when they want to."

Dora shook her head. How had she let Stacey talk her into robbing the gas station?

Stacey and Dora had been friends for over 10 years. Now, in their early 20s, they were in college and looking for exciting things to do. They both had led normal uneventful lives. Before they went off to college, they made a pact to leave their mark on the world, somehow. Dora never imagined that they would rob a bank to do so.

Dora stared at the TV screen. She watched as the Channel 12 news ran the surveillance camera footage of the robbery. She and Stacey did look like men. Stacey insisted that they wear baggy men's clothing. Stacey was smart like that. She thought of everything. She was always prepared. They had used toy guns.

Stacey said, "If we get caught, it won't be as bad as if we had real guns."

Dora wanted to cry, but she was still feeling the adrenaline rush from having just robbed the gas station. She was nervous. She was expecting the police to come bursting through the door at any moment. Dora looked at the door and waited. No one came in through the door. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Stacey was in the bedroom of her and Dora's apartment counting the money. Stacey was excited. She could not believe how excited she was. Her blood was rushing. Her heart was racing. She felt so alive. They had gotten away clean and the police suspected men of committing the robbery. Her plan had worked. They had gotten away with robbery.

Stacey laughed as she thought, "I can't believe the store owner lied about the amount of money that was stolen."

If they had needed the money that they had stolen, Stacey would have went back to the store and beat the clerk over the head for lying.

Dora stuck her head in the bedroom, "We are out of our mind. They are going to find us."

Stacey looked up at the annoying girl standing in the doorway, "Dang, girl. Why you gotta bring me down? They are not going to find us. You heard on the news that they are looking for men. We aren't men, are we?"

Dora shook her head, "No, we are not, but we are the ones who robbed the gas station."

Stacey grimaced, "Don't worry about it. We are okay. I have a plan to make sure that they don't come looking for us."

Dora interrupted Stacey, "Don't tell me what it is. I do not want to know. We are in this mess because of one of your stupid plans. I can't believe I listened to your crazy behind."

Stacey laughed. She had heard Dora say that phrase many times in the past. "You need to quit worrying. Just keep your mouth shut and everything will be okay. I bet you feel like you are floating on air, don't you?"

Dora rolled her eyes. She refused to answer Stacey.

Stacey laughed, "I already know the answer. Leave me alone, I gotta map out our plan for the next robbery."

Stacey let out a hearty laugh.

Dora slapped her face as she left the room. She hoped that Stacey was joking. They didn't need to rob anyone or anything else.

Aunt Ninnee's Quilt

I ran my fingers across Aunt Ninnee's quilt. The fabric was soft. The quilt had been around for over 100 years. It had been cared for by many great women from the Benberry family. There was a special way to care for the quilt; and in each generation, someone was carefully chosen to learn how to care for the quilt. It was finally my turn to care for the quilt.

Aunt Ninnee rested in her bed. I sat in the chair beside her bed. I watched her lay there, breathing in and out slowly. I didn't want the responsibility of caring for the quilt.

I had told Aunt Ninnee many a time before, but she would just shake her head and say, "Baby, it's your turn."

I watched the old woman's labored breathing. She was dying. She knew and I knew it. She refused to go to the hospital to be examined. Aunt Ninnee was a stubborn old woman.

She told me, "I am dying at my house, covered by this quilt, just like every Benberry woman before me. That's the right I have as the quilt bearer. One day, you will have that honor, even though you don't want it."

All I could do was shake my head. I was stuck in my predicament. I had to stay by Aunt Ninnee's side until she passed on to glory and then become the bearer of the quilt. I began to think about the history of Aunt Ninnee's quilt. It was a rich history

It has been said that the history of the quilt started in 1906. The quilt was started with a piece of cloth from the uniform of Howard Benberry, a black soldier who was involved in the soldier riots in Brownsville, Texas. Howard Benberry's wife, Pearl Benberry, started the quilt to remember her husband after his death. She gathered piece of cloth from all the family members who was at Howard's funeral. After each family member had given her a piece of fabric, the quilt was larger than Pearl had expected. It was 39 inches by 75 inches. Pearl used the quilt each night to cover up her only daughter, Edith.

As Edith grew older, Pearl taught her how to continue the quilt, by collecting pieces of fabric from various family members who sent them pieces of fabric. By 1908, the quilt was the size that Pearl had wanted it to be, 60 inches by 80 inches. The last thing Pearl did before she died in 1909 finish the quilt and teach her daughter Edith how to care for the quilt.

The tradition of passing the quilt down to a family member was started by Edith Benberry-DuBois. As her daughters were born, one of them began to take an interest in the quilt. Her second daughter, Harriet, would often ask her mother about the quilt. Harriet asked her mother about the history of the quilt. Edith's other daughters very rarely asked any questions about the quilt.

Harriet would always watch her mother as she cleaned the quilt. Harriet would even help her mother clean the quilt. Edith decided to let Harriet care for the quilt. Edith talked to Harriet about caring for the quilt and passing the quilt down to another female member of the family upon her death.

Edith said, "This quilt will live on in our family. As each generation is born, one of the female children will be chosen to care for the quilt. She will be taught how to clean the quilt. She will be taught the history of the quilt. She will be taught the tradition of the quilt."

Aunt Ninnee grunted. I looked at her.

She turned her head towards me and said, "What are you thinking about?"

I forced a smile as I said, "This quilt. Why did you pick me? I don't want the responsibility. What if I mess it up?"

It was as if Aunt Ninnee had gotten a burst of strength. She sat up on her bed and stared at me. She moved over on the bed and then motioned for me to come sit next to her. As complied with the old lady's wish. She rubbed my back. Her old hands still felt good. The love that flowed through her hands was still there, even though she was dying.

Aunt Ninnee rubbed my back, "Do you think I wanted this silly old thing?"

She raised the quilt up and glared at it as if it were a dirty old rag. She put the quilt back down and then lovingly rubbed it back into place.

She smiled, "I hated this thing growing up. I had to spend my Saturday mornings with Grandma Eunice, washing this thang. All the other children were out playing and I was washing this thing on a scrub board, that old raggedy scrub board. I tried to get Grandma Eunice to buy a new scrub board, but she just wouldn't."

Aunt Ninnee took a long deep breath. For the past two days, she couldn't say more than ten words without losing her breath.

I wanted to comfort my Aunt Ninnee, "You don't have to tell me about the quilt. Why don't you just rest?”

Aunt Ninnee made a face, "Child, where I am going, I will be resting for a long time. Praise the Lord. Where was I?"

She paused for a brief moment and then finished her story, "After Grandma Eunice died, I realized the importance of this quilt. It wasn't just some old collection of fabric anymore; it was my family's history; and Grandma Eunice saw something in me that lead her to choose me to care for it. It was no longer a responsibility, it was an honor."

Aunt Ninnee coughed. I reached for the bottle of water that was sitting on the table next to the bed. I helped her drink from the bottle.

She made a face, "I hate these bottles."

I laughed. Aunt Ninnee hated almost everything that had been created after the 1970s. It was all we could do to get her to let us buy her a television. She still had the one we bought her in 1985.

She refused to let us buy her a newer model, by saying, "This one works just fine. I can watch what I want to watch on this one."

Aunt Ninnee grabbed my hand. I had gotten use to her doing that after 22 years of her grabbing my hand. She moved my hand to the top of the quilt and placed it on the piece of fabric from Howard Benberry's uniform.

She said, "That piece of fabric started this whole thing. It's a wonder what can happen with the smallest piece of faith, ain't it, Little Sue?"

I cringed. I hated it when she called me that.

My name is Suevina. I don't know how my father came up with that name. When the time I was born, until this day, Aunt Ninnee has called me Little Sue.

She said, "I can't pronounce that child's name, so I am gonna call her Little Sue."

Aunt Ninnee smiled as she moved my hand to a red piece of fabric. It was the biggest piece of fabric on the quilt.

Aunt Ninnee said, "Child, this one, is from Howard's daughter, Claudine. You know she was a dance hall girl, shaking her tail for money. Lord have mercy. She wore a fast-tail dress to the funeral. After she cut this piece, she almost didn't have no dress left at all."

I laughed. That dress got smaller and smaller each time Aunt Ninnee told that story.

The aged woman moved my hand to a pink piece of fabric, "This here is Edda Mae's baby blanket. The child died right in her mamma's arm. Mary labored all night with that baby only to have her die. The only thing that comforted Mary was this quilt. It was as if the quilt took the hurt away. Mary lay covered in this quilt for three days, crying. After the third day, Mary got up out of her bed and then went on with her life. There is life in this quilt."

Aunt Ninnee refused to quit talking.

She had to continue on with her story, "This white piece right here, it is from Victor he was a nurse in a local hospital. He was one of the first professional men in our family. This black pinstripe piece right here is from Rev. Gregory Tatum. He was the first preacher in our family. I heard he could call fire down from Heaven just like Elijah."

Aunt Ninnee coughed again. I tried to get her to stop talking, but she refused, "You wanted to know why I picked you. I am telling you why I picked you. See this yellow polka dot piece. That's from my family line. Arthur Brewer, don't ask me his relation to me, was on his death bed. He asked to be covered up with the quilt. After a week, he got well. No one knows how. He just got up and walked off his death bed. There is healing in this quilt. I can keep going forever."

I blew a breath. Aunt Ninnee patted me on my leg, "You are tired of me, aren't you?"

I didn't say a word. Aunt Ninnee smiled, "I know, baby. Your mama still ain't told yet."

I looked perplexed, "Old lady, what are you talking about?"

Aunt Ninnee smiled again, "I may be old, but I am beautiful. You ain't gonna never be this old, being so mean."

I laughed.

Aunt Ninnee turned her face towards the wall. I thought she was finally through talking. I started to get off the bed.

Aunt Ninnee grabbed my arm, "Where you going?"

I didn't have time to answer because Aunt Ninnee said, "I ain't finished my story." I sat back down on the bed.

Aunt Ninnee reached up and rubbed my face, "You a pretty chile. I was at your birth. Did you know that?"

I stared at Aunt Ninnee, "No ma’am. I didn't."

I didn't know much about my birth, other than there were some complications. No one ever said anything about it.

Aunt Ninnee continued her story, "I stayed with your mother while she had you. You were a hard pregnancy for your mother. She had to be in the bed most of the time she was pregnant with you. I let her sleep with the quilt most of the time. Whenever she had that quilt on her, you would move yourself so that you could be next to the quilt. No matter where you were, you always came up to the quilt. Everybody could see you plain as day, too, just poking yourself out."

Aunt Ninnee paused and then continued on, "You been stubborn since you were born. You refused to come out. You were two weeks late. I still ain't figured out how Doc Green let you stay in as long as you did. Your mother was stubborn. She wanted you to come out on your own, but you wouldn't. Doc Green finally decided to make you come out. He tried to persuade you to come out with medicine, but you just wouldn't come out. After two days, he decided to take you out. But your mother didn't want surgery. Just stubborn."

Aunt Ninnee seemed to be gaining strength as she told her story, "They called me to the hospital cause your mother was near bout to have a fit. The Lord said to me plain as day, 'Take the quilt with you.' I did. When I get to the hospital, your mother is there throwing a fit, looking a fright. You were poking your head out, making your mother stomach look big as a watermelon. I declare you was laughing at all of us grown folk wrestling with your mother. I finally got her calmed down and told Doc Green to leave her alone. You were still there poking your head out. I looked at your mother's stomach right at you and said, 'If you don't brang your stubborn hide out of there now, I'm a come in there and get you!' You moved, too. Your mother went into labor right after I said that to you."

Aunt Ninnee looked up at me and smiled. She didn't have any children of her own, but she had raised enough children to be considered a mother. I know I thought of her more as my mother, than I did my own mother.

Aunt Ninnee touched my face again, "You pretty, even though you came out looking ugly. Your mother wrestled with you for over 15 hours. You started out and then stopped in the middle and stayed there. Doc Green was looking in your mother. He could see you, but you wouldn't come out. Doc Green got a machine and looked at you. You were stuck and couldn't move. Doc Green got that fork looking contraption and pulled you out. The old fool squished your head. You were a sight."

Aunt Ninnee laughed a hearty laugh. She reached over me for her bottle of water.

I leaned back so she could get it and said, "I could have handed it to you."

Aunt Ninnee huffed, "I ain't helpless."

I shook my head. Aunt Ninnee finished drinking the water and handed me the bottle.

I didn't take it from her, "I thought you weren't helpless."

Aunt Ninnee made a face, "Quit being smart and put this thang up."

I took the bottle from her hand and placed it on the table.

"Where was I?" Aunt Ninnee didn't wait for me to respond, "Oh yea, you were all squished up. Your mother was having a fit cause she wanted to see you and Doc Green wouldn't let her. He was trying to get you to breathe right. You were having a hard time. Between you and your mother, Doc Green had his hands full. Finally, I told Doc Green to hand you to me and for him to take care of your mother. I wrapped you up, nasty and all, in the quilt and rocked you. Before too long, you were breathing right. After a few minutes, you started cooing up a storm. You had the quilt in your hands, sucking on the edge of it. Right then and there, I knew I was supposed to pass the quilt on to you."

Tears rolled down my face. I never knew any of that story. Aunt Ninnee rubbed my hand gently as I cried. I understood. I knew why I had spent all those Saturdays with Aunt Ninnee, learning how to wash the quilt. I understood why Aunt Ninnee yelled at the kids when they tried to take it outside and use it as a tent. I understood everything.

I stopped crying and kissed Aunt Ninnee on her forehead.

Aunt Ninnee smiled, "Well baby, it's not Aunt Ninnee's quilt any more. It's Little Sue's quilt now."

I smiled. It didn't even bother me that the old woman had called me Little Sue. I was the bearer of the quilt.

I stood up from the bed. Aunt Ninnee gave no objection. I adjusted the quilt on Aunt Ninnee's body. She looked so peaceful and calm. She didn't seem to be breathing, so I felt for a pulse. There wasn't one. I let the tears roll down my face as I took charge of the quilt, as I had been instructed to do.

I smiled as I walked to the phone to call the doctor.

I thought to myself, "The next time this story is told, it will be called 'Little Sue's Quilt'."

Adeline

Adeline Taylor brushed her long curly auburn hair behind her ear. The world revolved around her. She knew, her family knew it, and as soon as everyone else quit fighting the notion, they would know it. No one else's feelings matter to her. No one else's thoughts mattered to her. It was all about Adeline Taylor.

Adeline's father picked her up from school. Her friend Tracy Hankins said goodbye to her. Adeline did not say anything. Adeline did not even acknowledge Tracy at that moment. Tracy turned and looked at Ron Parks, another friend of Adeline.

Ron shrugged his shoulders as he said, "Bye Adeline."

No response from Adeline. Ron made his famous mean face. Megan Sayers thought it would be different when she said goodbye to Adeline, but it was not. Megan got the same response as the other two friends received, none.

Adeline's dad looked at her and said, "You're friends said goodbye. You need to say goodbye."

Adeline ignored her dad and walked to the car. Adeline's dad turned to her friends and said, "Goodbye guys. See you tomorrow."

Tracy rolled her eyes. Ron made a face. Megan smiled. At that moment, they did not care about Adeline or her father.

The three mistreated friends watched Adeline get into her car. They watched the car drive off.

After Adeline's car was out of sight, Tracy said, "I am so tired of her not speaking to us. I am tired of always having to play what she wants to play. I am not going to be her friend anymore."

Ron chimed, "I am not going to be her friend either. No one else likes her, so she want have anyone else to play with."

Megan did not say anything.

Tracy looked at Megan and said, "So, are you going to still be her friend?"

Megan looked down at the ground. Megan liked Adeline. Yes, the auburn haired girl could be bossy and demanding, but Megan liked her anyway.

Tracy twisted her lips, "Yea, you are going to be her friend anyway. You can spend your whole day playing whatever Adeline wants; I am not going to do it anymore!"

Tracy stormed off.

Ron and Megan rode home together, so he waited with Megan until their ride came.

Megan asked Ron, "Are you really not going to be Adeline's friend?"

Ron boldly responded, "I am not her friend anymore! I don't like her either!"

Megan did not say anything else.

***

Adeline arrived at school at her usual time. She always came later than everyone else. She wanted everyone to be there when she walked in the room. Today, something was different. No one stopped what they were doing. No one came over to her to say hello. No one told her how pretty she looked in her pink outfit. No one paid her any attention.

In her loudest indoor voice, Adeline said, "Mrs. Gitter, I am here today."

Mrs. Gitter smiled at Adeline and said, "I see that Adeline. Put your backpack in your locker and go to a table and work with your friends."

Adeline put her backpack in her locker and then walked over to Mrs. Gitter. Adeline tapped Mrs. Gitter on her arm, "Mrs. Gitter, do you like my new pink outfit?"

Mrs. Gitter looked up at Adeline, "Yes, Adeline. It is very pretty. Go find a place to sit and do your table top work."

Adeline smiled and hugged Mrs. Gitter.

Adeline went to the table where Tracy, Ron, and Megan were. Adeline reached for some of the blocks that were on the table.

Ron moved the blocks out of Adeline's reach, "These are mine." Adeline huffed and then reached for some blocks close to Tracy.

Tracy moved the blocks as she made a face at Adeline. Adeline rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue. Tracy stuck her tongue out at Adeline.

Adeline said, "Mrs. Gitter, Tracy stuck her tongue out at me." Mrs. Gitter did not respond.

Adeline took matters into her own hands. She grabbed some of the blocks from Tracy's hand. Tracy hit Adeline on the arm. Adeline started to cry and ran over to Mrs. Gitter.

"Mrs. Gitter, Tracy hit me."

Mrs. Gitter stopped working with the student she was working with and said, "Adeline, you need to go talk to your friend and work it out. Tell her how you feel."

Adeline, unsatisfied with Mrs. Gitter's response, walked back over to Tracy. Adeline looked at Tracy and said, "Mrs. Gitter said you need to say you're sorry for hitting me." Tracy ignored Adeline. Adeline repeated her previous statement. Tracy ignored her again.

Adeline walked back over to Mrs. Gitter, "Tracy is ignoring me."

Mrs. Gitter walked over to Tracy and said, "Tracy, your friend is trying to talk to you. Please pay attention and listen."

Tracy quickly looked at Adeline and then looked back down at the floor.

Adeline said, "Tracy you hurt my feelings when you hit me." With Mrs. Gitter watching, Tracy responded, "Sorry."

Adeline smiled as Mrs. Gitter walked off.

Adeline had won this round, but she was not going to win the war. Tracy and her friends had a lot more in store for her.

Definition of a Short Story

MSN Encarta Dictionary
A work of prose fiction that is shorter than a novel

Wikipedia
A short story is a form of short fictional narrative prose. Short stories tend to be more concise and to the point than longer works of fiction, such as novellas (in the modern sense of this term) and novels.


Mrs. D. Boone
A story that I write that is shorter than a novel. It can be from 500 words to 15,000 words.

Introduction

These are various short stories I wrote back in the day.

Older Blogs

Decided to revive some of my older blogs...

Here's the second one.