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Weepin' Willa: A Collection of Short Stories
Weepin' Willa: A Collection of Short Stories
Weepin' Willa: A Collection of Short Stories
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Weepin' Willa: A Collection of Short Stories

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This is a journey of life-altering surgeries, a few romantic disappointments and the death of a caring mother. The latter tragic event pervades each line of these pages of autobiographical elements written from the heart-a heart that forgives life without realizing it needs to forgive itself first. Weepin' Willa: A Collection of Short Stories is stained with tears of love...not girl-meets-boy love (no, Mr. Right does not make his grand appearance)...but the kind of love born of courage, endurance and reconciliation. Being 4'4" tall is not easy; but in the end, it is possible to find peace through self-acceptance and a dry sense of humor.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherNariscia Lott
Release dateJan 24, 2011
ISBN9781476057682
Weepin' Willa: A Collection of Short Stories
Author

Nariscia Lott

Nariscia Lott was born on December 23, 1973, in Chicago, Illinois; but she was raised in Indianola, Mississippi, in a small house with her two sisters, mother and grandfather. Born with a severe case of idiopathic scoliosis, she attributes her creativity and storywriting talent to stubbornness and a vivid imagination. Weepin' Willa: A Collection of Short Stories is Lott's first self-published book.

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    Weepin' Willa - Nariscia Lott

    Weepin’ Willa: A Collection of Short Stories

    by

    Nariscia Lott

    Copyright © 2009 by Nariscia Lott

    Smashwords Edition

    A note from the author…

    I’d like to personally thank each and every one of you for purchasing my collection of short stories! I do hope you enjoy listening to my inside voice—a journey to the depths of my soul. This is uncharted territory. It’s taken me nearly 14 years to summon the courage to let you in.

    People have asked, Why did you write short stories, and why aren’t they in chronological order? The answer is simple: This is my vision for my first book. I don’t believe in putting boundaries or restrictions on creativity. I freed myself from the right way to write and Weepin’ Willa: A Collection of Short Stories was born.

    This is my introduction to the world…our first date. What kind of girl would I be if I put out on the first date?

    I have dreamed of this moment all my life! This is only the beginning. Stay tuned…

    Smooches

    For me…

    January 1996

    Kelly just stood there like she was choking on a bone, unable to breathe, unable to speak. ...just standing there with red, puffy eyes and a monsoon of tears on the horizon. I must have aged twenty years while sitting there impatiently awaiting the obviously bad news that was, surely, something as unbelievable as it was tragic.

    Kelly! Just say it! What happened to Q? I demanded.

    But she just stood there motionless, except to wipe away the now steady stream of tears ever so often. She kept looking all around the room, never making eye contact with anyone. Gently rocking from side to side. Nervous. Upset. And maybe even afraid.

    Kelly, what is it? You’re scaring her now, a co-worker intervened.

    I didn’t want everybody in my business; but that was exactly what was about to happen. A small crowd of people working the 3-to-11-shift with me had gathered around us. I thought it was funny that they got close enough to hear our every word, but they were careful to leave us plenty of room for any confrontation that might occur. Even my supervisor’s interest had been piqued by Kelly’s delayed response; she, too, had claimed her seat nearby.

    What could it be? Have I done something wrong? No. I don’t think so. I’m getting off in an hour. She could have called me at home to cuss me out, if need be. And she got off...what?...eight hours ago; so there must be something wrong...because I know she wouldn’t be coming back up to the j-o-b just to look crazy! Q. It has to be him. He and Marco probably got into some serious trouble. Everybody ain’t cut out for selling weed. Or maybe he’s dead. Damn. He’s been a little depressed lately; but I was there for him whenever he needed me and even when he didn’t. So, if he killed himself, I have nothing to feel bad about, right? Maybe they were in an accident. Oh, Lord! Maybe they got shot or something! They do live in the hood! Damn, I gotta pee! She is making me too nervous! My heart’s working double-time, and...am I breathing?! If she doesn’t hurry up and say what the matter is, I’m gonna die right here, right now!

    Kelly took a deep, cleansing breath before she began to speak.

    Everything really does move in slow motion in times like these! Like a series of still photographs fanning from one to the next! I feel a slight breeze from the shuffled deck of pictures, and I see little flickers of light!

    Your...

    She sounds just like a robot—monotone, pre-programmed. I guess this wouldn’t be a good time to clown her about that.

    mommagotkilled! she blurted out in record time.

    Who sped up the tape and turned down the volume? Wait a minute. What did she say?

    I ran to the ladies’ room. I didn’t know why. I just didn’t know what else to do. I paced back and forth...back and forth. Faster. Faster!

    Did she say, killed? ...as in dead?

    ...Back and forth. Faster. Faster! The pace became a trot...faster and faster...until I was running back and forth, preparing for a race. I needed to run. Something weird was happening inside me. I couldn’t sit still. I was mad at the world; but I didn’t understand how I could be so upset by something that couldn’t possibly be true.

    She couldn’t be talking about my momma. Maybe she got her information wrong. That figures. I gotta call Momma and tell her about this. Kelly has lost her fuckin’ mind!

    A low moan slowly seeped from my orifice. The sound echoed against the bathroom walls—a starter pistol. I ran. I ran out into the hall and into the arms of the on-lookers. Everybody’s lips were moving, but all I heard was a piercing scream. I pushed my way through the small crowd to the break room and down the wall to the fourth phone. See, that was the only phone that would allow you to make long distance calls. I picked up the receiver and dialed the number without looking at the keypad. My hands were shaking so badly that I had to tuck the receiver between my head and shoulder to keep it from falling to the floor.

    Hello.

    Sheri? Why are you answering the phone? Where’s Momma?

    Dede, baby...Jessie died tonight in a car accident.

    I went numb. I stopped breathing again. My voice was hushed when my heart leaped into my throat and pounded unmercifully. Lightheaded and a little disoriented, I threw my back against the wall and let my body slide down to the floor. My fingers and toes began to tingle. And that piercing scream faded in and out—but mostly in.

    I can’t think. Father, please take me now! I can’t do this!

    The scream only got louder with the passing of each second, and the voices of my nosey ass co-workers rang in my ear.

    Dede! You still there?

    I could still hear Sheri’s lazy voice over the phone.

    I wonder if she still chews tobacco and/or dips snuff. I wonder if she has her spit cup with her. I know Momma’s having a fit if she’s got that shit up in her house.

    Someone took the phone out of my hand.

    Bitch.

    Hello? This is Dede’s co-worker. What happened, ma’am?

    Why does she need to know?! It’s not her damn momma! Nosey ass!

    A car accident? Oh, wow. The road was iced over? I am so sorry to hear that. No, ma’am. We won’t let her drive up there. Is it real bad in the Delta? Really? Well, it’s cold down here in Jackson, but we don’t have no ice, though. All right. We’ll take care of her until you get here tomorrow. You take care now. Okay. Bye-bye.

    She put the receiver in its proper place and looked at me with such pity in her eyes. She offered her hand to me; but I pushed it out of the way.

    Shut up! Don’t say nothing to me! I don’t wanna hear shit you got to say! Leave me alone! I hollered.

    I never did master the art of screaming like a girl. But my own voice was now a stranger to me.

    I jumped up and ran out the front door...down the sidewalk...through the dimly lit parking lot...passed McAllister’s Deli...straight to my banged-up car. I tried the door, but it was locked. I raised my fists in anger and started pounding on the driver’s side window. But it wouldn’t break. A car pulled up behind mine, blocking me in, so to speak. My teeth

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