Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 352(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“It’s a BIG piece of puzzle, man, because you—”
“Legend, listen. Let’s kill this right here, right now. I don’t know what you’re insinuating, but if you thought I was a racist, you never would’ve had anything to do with me, and that probably goes for Axel, too.”
“You’re damn right it goes for me, too.” Axel laughed dismally. “I got racist family members. We can’t choose our family, but I damn sure can choose my friends. Legend, I don’t think Caspian is sayin’ what you’re implying. I misunderstood at first, too.”
“Yeah, Jesus, man. That’s not who I am,” he pointed at himself, “but I have to be honest and lay the groundwork here because this wasn’t usual for me. And it means something. It’s important. This isn’t about you or Axel. I agreed to come here and talk to y’all. We all know Mrs. Florence is gunnin’ for me. Everything that’s happening right now is because she’s trying to get me to do good on my promise. Somethin’ is goin’ on.”
“…Okay. Tell us what went on. Did you talk to this lady?” Legend questioned.
“Our conversation was brief but it wasn’t just what she said, it was how she moved. What she didn’t say and how she looked.”
“What she look like? Describe ’er for us.” Legend seemed a bit suspicious.
“Her name is Azure. This woman is perfect. Nobody is flawless, but if anyone ever came close, it would be her. Her skin is rich, dark, no blemishes. I was up in her face… on purpose. I wanted to see her, step into her personal space. Not one scar on her face. One wrinkle. One pimple. She didn’t even look real. More like she had a filter on. Her hair is… what do they call it? Not straight.”
“Natural?” Axel offered. “When they don’t use chemicals to straighten it, it’s called natural.”
“Okay, but it’s in these long locs, all the way down to her ass. She called them butterfly locs. Yeah, that’s right. They’re not like dreadlocks though, and they seem really soft. Her eyes are beautiful. They’re a medium brown color, slanted and captivating, and the whites of her eyes are almost blinding, as though she’s never been near smog, pollution, smoked a cigarette, joint, or ate an impure thing in her life. Her smile is fuckin’ stunning. Really nice teeth. She has a nice rack. Not too big or too small. Her hips… they’re wide and shapely, and she walks like she’s a model, even though she couldn’t be any taller than five foot seven. She smelled so good, and she had on all of this jewelry—nice pieces, too. I’m used to being around beautiful women. Never had no trouble gettin’ girls. But this woman… my God… just wow.”
“So, did you ask her out?” Axel asked with a smirk. “Just tell us so we can get on wit’ it.”
“I definitely did. But I know this is one of Mrs. Florence’s tricks. She set me up.”
“How do you figure?” Legend stood and went to the refrigerator to grab another beer.
“This lady said some things that let me know. Of course she wasn’t aware of this little paranormal scheme of our teacher.” He frowned. “She told me, ‘The Black woman is God,’ and that she was going to put white feathers in a vase she bought, sayin’ it was a vibe. That had Mrs. Florence written all over it.”
“I know why the white feathers struck you as strange, but why the statement, ‘The Black woman is God’?” Legend questioned. “That’s something a lotta Afrocentric folks say. It’s a common phrase. Got t-shirts and everything. It’s nothin’ new.”
Caspian shook his head and smiled. Mrs. Florence was crafty…
“No, no, no. Let me explain. My biological mother told me when I was little boy, that God looked like whatever we wanted Him to look like. I never forgot that. I don’t have a lot of memories of my mama because I was five when she died, as y’all know, but some things really stuck wit’ me.” He took a deep breath. “When I was in Mrs. Florence’s class, she said that however we picture God, and portray Him in our mind, is more a reflection of us than of Him. See, she said that to me because she was encouraging me with my writing. She knew I wanted to go into journalism. My English teacher, Ms. Baker, wasn’t really helpin’ me, probably because I hated her and caused issues in her class.”
“Everyone hated Ms. Baker. She was a mean ass bitch,” Axel muttered, causing a round of laughter.
“Yeah, so, we’d talk about current events. Politics. I had brought up to her the fact that I wasn’t sure God existed. I told her what my mama had said, too. I told her that a good God wouldn’t have allowed my mother to hang herself and leave me like that. I needed my mama…” He swallowed, hating how these old emotions were coming to the fore. “I said that a good God would have put a stop to all of these wars that take place. Senseless acts of greed. A good God worthy to be praised would’ve never let bad people keep hurtin’ good people. Just sittin’ back and letting it happen. A good God would’ve never let me sit wit’ my dead mama for three days… her body swingin’ above my head like some gotdamn chandelier.”