BLOG
The door was shut, and no invitation was coming. Mama dabbed sweat from her brow and soothed the children to comfort herself. Papa was silent. They had reached a threshold they could not cross, and the words of the New Colossus rang bitter and empty. Baby cried. Mama cooed. Papa stared at the locks on the golden door.
Parasite, the burghers spat. Bloodsucker, Freeloader, Leech; but the masses huddled on the stoop had not asked for their thirst. Their water had been poisoned, their manors razed, their fields salted and burned by fires kindled by the suburbanites who now sneered at their plight. They had endured an odyssey on a promise and a dream and the rusted bones of a bus, only to be frustrated by a false word, a friendly hand rescinded, and a thin band of running water. The hypocrisy stung, stank, like garlic rubbed in a fresh wound. Scrub rustled in the darkness and Papa tensed. Their guide slunk into the firelight, face twisted in a lupine leer, and led the clan to a box truck and a stack of crates. In, he growled. Blackness enshrouded them, close and hot, and as their casket lids were nailed shut. Mama clutched her rosary. Prayers were all they had left.
0 Comments
Is it just me, or is news today happening faster than before? Contemporary calamities are treated like contestants on America’s Got Talent, giving their all in the spotlight before they’re buzzed off in favor of the next national crisis. So this post is a little late, but not by long. And who knows? It may soon blunder back into the headlines. Today’s topic: Nazis, and punching them.
|
About My BlogStories. Archives
May 2020
Categories
All
|