“No Brakes”: A Short Story by Rickey Pittman

Here’s another story I intend on including in my new collection of short fiction horror.

NO BRAKES

“Anyone can kill an enemy, but it takes a strong man to kill a friend.”—Eskiminzin, Apache chief. Roger had been my best friend for over ten years. He was also movie-actor handsome, a Don Juan able to charm his way into the arms of most women. He had always been energetic and charismatic, conning and charming his way out of tight and awkward situations that would have buried anyone else. Then Roger’s luck ran out. He lost his job. buy albion gold After his wife caught him whoring around, the divorce cleaned out his bank account and separated him forever from his kids. Depression set in, his drinking intensified, and I would lose contact with him for weeks at a time whenever he binged and vanished into his whiskey-hazed world. buy albion gold After I read in the paper that he had been busted for writing hot checks, I felt sick to my stomach, wondering where his self-destructive path would end. And then something happened that had never happened before—he called and asked me to bail him out of jail. I found a bondsman and took care of it. When I woke the next morning after a troubled sleep, I figured it was time for Roger and I to have a heart to heart talk, so I drove to Roger’s Oak Cliff address and parked my BMW behind a battered black 62 Ford Fairlane. O.J. Howard Alabama Jersey

An older man sat on the front porch of the rundown house. His eyes were tired and jaundiced, his unshaved face grizzled. Like the house, he had obviously seen better times. A bicycle with two large side baskets was upturned and he appeared to be tightening its spokes with a tiny rusted crescent wrench. When I stepped out of the BMW and walked toward him, he said, “Nice car.” He pointed to the Fairlane. “That be my car. Lord, she was fast and sleek, just like my women. She was running good till she lost her brakes. albion silver Then it seemed like nothing else would work right. Now I can’t even get her started. Air Jordan Pas cher

So I guess she’s just going to sit there till she rots or gets towed off.” “I guess if you ain’t going to fix it, that would be the best thing.” I spat into the grass, then lit a cigarette. Scarpe Adidas Online albion gold “You know a white boy named Roger?” I asked. “He’s supposed to live at this address.” “Where you from, cracker?” he asked. He pointed at my cigarettes. “I shore would like one of them Kools.” I shook him out a cigarette and then pitched him a paper book of matches. cheap albion silver “I really ain’t got time for small talk,” I said. “You know this boy Roger or not?” “Yeah, he be around back.” He pointed to his right. “That crackhead lives in the bottom apartment with an outside door. He gots lots of beer cans piled up. I guess he gonna get in the can business too.” “Much obliged,” I said. “A man can make good money pickin’ up cans.” “I wouldn’t know. At Roger’s door, I heard Jim Morrison’s tormented voice singing “The End.” I pounded on the door with my fist till Roger answered. His face was drawn and streaked, his hands dirty and scabbed. His movie-star handsome looks were fading fast. “Oh, hey, Ken. You out slummin?” He grinned as he wiped sleep crud from his eyes. He eyed the Burger King sack in my hand. Under Armour Micro G Torcia “I brought you a meal. Nike Air zoom Pegasus 31 damskie Why don’t you invite me in. Air Huarache Donna Nere

And turn down that damn music so we can talk.” “Sure.” He opened the door and motioned me into the cluttered apartment. “Thanks for getting me out of county, Ken. You’re a good friend.” “Yeah, a good friend.” I scanned the room. A forest of empty beer bottles rose in the midst of overflowing ashtrays and pizza boxes filled with petrified crusts. “It stinks like shit in here, Roger. Why don’t you clean it up once in a while?” “Ah, It ain’t so bad. The maid’s just falling down on the job.” “You ain’t got no maid, no girlfriend either. Probably couldn’t even get it up if you could find one that would put up with your sorry ass.” I pointed to the glass pipe on the coffee table. “You’re burning rock again, ain’t you?” He shrugged his shoulders. “Not much. cheap albion gold I got things under control.” “Crack or ice?” He smiled, but his face was blank. One eye twitched, and the other crossed strangely. “Control, shit,” I said. “You’re strung out. New Balance 990 męskie Roger. Look at yourself. You couldn’t stop using if you wanted to. buy albion silver ” “Don’t start preaching at me, man. I thought you were my friend.” “I am your best friend, Roger. adidas nmd r1 uomo That’s why I’m here. I’m going to make you stop this shit.” He laughed. “Oh, sure. Ken’s going to make me go to rehab?” He sat down on the mildewed couch and ate the burger and fries I had bought him. When he finished, I sat next to him. cheap albion gold I pulled the .38 from my cargo pants pocket and pressed it against his forehead. “Close your eyes, Roger.

Cry, Little Artillery Man: A Song by Rickey E. Pittman

Some years ago, I learned the story of Jane Perkins, an Irish girl who moved to America from ireland during the Potato Famine. Air Jordan 5 Uomo Here’s the short version. She and her brother eventually settled in Danville, VA. She became a school teacher, and when the War Between the States erupted, she joined the Danville Artillery unit with her brother. nike air max 90 vt femme She fought with the ferociousness of her Celtic ancestors, was captured and sent to Point Lookout Prison in Maryland. asics buty męskie They discovered she was a woman when she gave birth to a little boy that her fellow soldiers named, Little Artillery Man. Peyton Manning Tennessee Football Jerseys The Federals took the baby from her, and she was taken to the Old Capitol Prison in Washington where she was tortured and abused. Nike Air Jordan 6 Womens Finally released, she walked back to Virginia and rejoined her artillery unit. USC Trojans She vanishes from history and our records after the battle of Petersburg, where it’s assumed she died. Air Jordan 4 Donna

A sad story, but one I felt needed to be told, so I wrote this song performed in Cry, Little Artillery Man from SquarePlanIT, LLC on Vimeo. Huston Street Baseball Jersey

You can read her complete story in a fine book, Lady Rebel:The Story of Private Jane Perkins, by George and Patti Beil. Here are the lyrics of the song that I do in the key of D.

Cry, Little Artillery Man

VERSE 1 Lincoln built a prison He called it Point Lookout To the barren sand of Maryland, He sent soldiers of the South. They fenced us in with water, And unmarked deadlines, 50,000 came here, 14,000 died. Scarpe Nike Store There’s a thousand ways to break a man, And the Yankees know them all, They kept us cold and hungry, And tried to make us crawl. They shot us out of meanness, And starved us out of spite, We buried our dead in the sand, And prayed for them at night. CHORUS I’m here at Point Lookout With all these men in gray, In frostbit feet and ragged clothes, With the South so far away. Abandon hope, ye who enter here, This place that God has cursed, In this cold hell at Chesapeake Bay Lincoln’s devils drive the hearse. asics gel kinsei VERSE 2 On a hot July morning, I heard a baby cry, A crowd of soldiers stood and cheered, A few men wiped their eyes. air max 1 pas cher Kanken Big We called him Little Artillery Man Though there were no cannon there, We named him for his mama, Like us, imprisoned there. Hollister Her name was Jane Perkins, A proud Irish girl She taught school in Virginia Till Rebel flags unfurled, When war came in 61, Her world changed overnight She cut her hair, dressed like a man And signed up for the fight. CHORUS So cry, Little Artillery Man, Wake the men in blue, Let the Yankees hear your voice, Make them hear the truth, Cry, Little Artillery Man, They’ve taken your mama from you, Here at Point Lookout, Babies are prisoners too. VERSE 3 She fought with Lee for three long years, With the Danville Artillery, Till the Yankees took her prisoner, And sent her here with me. When you were born, they took her away, And shackled her in chains. goedkoop air max 2017 In Washington, tortured, abused, She learned there’s many kinds of pain. When the Yankees were through with her, Your mama was set free, She walked back to Virginia, To the Danville Artillery. nike air max They say she died at Petersburg Before the war was done. She fought for the South, and she fought for you, For you, her only son. Air Jordan 5 (V) CHORUS So cry, Little Artillery Man, Wake the men in blue, Let the Yankees hear your voice, Make them hear the truth, Cry, Little Artillery Man, They’ve taken your mama from you, And here at Point Lookout, Babies are prisoners too.

La LLorona: Bodies in the Trinity

I’ve decided I’m going to create a collection of short horror fiction. This is my first entry and I’m going to try to post one regularly on this blog. Let me know what you think.

BODIES IN THE TRINITY by Rickey Pittman

Evil is a true thing in Mexico. It goes about on its own legs. Maybe some day it will come to you. Maybe it already has—Cormac McCarthy, All the Pretty Horses I AM LA LLARONA, AND I WEEP FOR MY CHILDREN. For centuries of nights I have wandered along the waters throughout Mexico. Canotta Cleveland Cavaliers And yes, I walk along the banks of your Trinity River. I have strolled along your Turtle Creek, your Bachman Lake and the other waters. You are surprised to find me in your country? Do not be. Maglia Stephen Curry No, in my lifetime, your land too was once a part of Mexico. I am a Mexican ghost, born of a desert tragedy. On that dreadful night, when I realized my lover had abandoned us, I blew out the last candle I had lit for him and drowned my two little children, damning myself forever. Louisville Cardinals But as I was a whore in the eyes of all, what else could I have done? I had given this man my virginity, my honor, my future. No one would help us—-not my parents, not the Holy Church, not the residents of our pueblo. I am forever lost now—in the night, in the madness, pain, hopelessness, grief, and loneliness. Ay, mis hijos, ¿Donde Estan mis hijos? But I have found I am not so alone. One night, I came upon a couple–shouting, fighting. Two young children clutched each other nearby, watching. A boy and a girl. They so reminded me of my own. Air Max Thea Mujer “Jorge, please, take us home,” the woman said. “The children are frightened.” The man spat at her and threw her to the ground. “No. I do not care where you go, but you will not return with me.” He cursed, then stormed out of sight. When I came to her, she was weeping. “Why do you weep, querida?” I asked. She shook her head and did not answer, wiping fiercely at the tears on her cheeks. I lifted her chin with my hand so she would look at me. adidas gazelle uomo “What is your name?” “Veronica.” “He was your man, was he not? And now he has left you? Answer me.” “Yes. Air Jordan Retro 28 But who are you? Are you an angel?” “Yes, querida. I am your angel tonight—your guide and guardian.” “Oh, thank you!” She clutched my legs and buried her tear-stained face in my dress. Her weeping tore my heart. “Jorge has abandoned me. And now who will take care of my children?” She clenched her fists and held them against her face. I sat next to her and wrapped my arms around her. “I will help you take care of them. I am your sister. Do you not see the resemblance?” I brushed my fingers through her long dark hair and looked deep into the black-pearl eyes. “I understand your pain. Look into the river. The river holds the secret. The river will tell you what to do.” Dipping my hand into the water, I held my arm up and watched the drops slip back into the river. As she sobbed and stared at the water, I held out my hands to the children. nike air max 1 homme “Come, hijos.” I led them back to Veronica, and we sat together, staring at the river. In the distance I could see the Dallas skyline, and even in our remote location, the sirens, and sounds of the city roared in my head. I knew what the mother would soon do, and so I kissed each of them and left them there by the water, and followed Jorge. I found him leaning against a tree smoking. He smelled of tequila and beer. I stepped behind him and gently tapped him on the shoulder. Turning, he said, “Jesus, you scared me. Buenos noches.” He attempted to walk away, but I moved in front of him. “Ah, but you would not leave me so soon? And such a handsome man.” I stroked his cheek and placed my hand on his chest. “Such very fine clothes. Surely you are able to give a woman all the things she needs.” “So the lady wants something from me, tonight, eh?” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and put my arms around his neck. “I knew a man very much like you once. Why are you here, guapo, my handsome one? You are all alone and along sad waters.” “I’m looking for a beautiful woman like yourself.” I could see the lust in his eyes. “Why won’t you marry Veronica?” He pushed me away. “You know her, don’t you? She sent you? Does she think she can trick me into keeping her? Why should a successful man marry beneath himself? My family disproves of her. As they would of you.” The arrogance in his eyes enraged me. “But she will have nothing without you.” “She is no longer my concern.” “I know you, Jorge, and many more like you.” I clutched him and kissed him hard, biting his lip. “So the lady wishes to play hard?” “You have no idea how hard I can play.” I took him by the hand toward the river. “Come, lie with me.” He grinned. “You will not forget this night.” “Nor you,” I said. He struggled to live, but it was in vain. In those last moments, when I held his head under the water, I knew his thoughts. How can a woman be so strong? Will my body be found tomorrow in the dirty water of the Trinity? You think I’m cruel. A murderer of my own children. A malevolent spirit. Perhaps. But I am no more cruel than your society, which drowns your little ones in violence, in drugs, in neglect. It is a terrible thing to lose a child. If you listen in the quiet of the night, you will hear me weep for my children, and for yours. They are all my children now. I want to save them, but I don’t know how. Saint Joseph’s Hawks Jerseys Ay, mis hijos, mis hijos. ¿ Donde estan mis hijos? And Dallas has many drowning children for me to cry for.

Guitar Chords and Lyrics for Young Rebel: The Ballad of Sam Davis

Ross Moore, asics gel quantum 360 męskie on his album Southern Son, has a fine collection of music. new balance 574 sonic femme bordeaux nike air max 2017 dames Blauw cheap albion gold This is an album you should purchase if you love Southern Rebel music. Boston College Eagles buy albion silver You can purchase it here: I particularly enjoyed his song, “Young Rebel: The Ballad of Sam Davis.” You can read the story of Sam Davis here: I listened to the song and transcribed the lyrics and wrote down the chords for anyone who would ike to learn the song. new balance 1600 daytona ronnie fieg

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    nike air max goedkoop albion gold FINAL CHORUS: Young rebel, you did not die in vain, Coleman’s men all lived to ride again.

    “Devil on the Plow” by the Charlie Sizemore Band, Lyrics and Chords

    Those who follow my rather fast-paced schedule across the South know that I often try to perform at farmer’s markets. Atlanta Hawks asics onitsuka tiger hombre I believe in supporting our farmers, nike air max 1 pas cher Nike Air Max 2016 Goedkoop I believe in healthy food, Women Air Jordan 14 soldes air max 1 and they are the type of down-to-earth people I ike to be around. adidas gazelle homme NIKE TENNIS CLASSIC ULTRA FLYKNIT

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    News Release: Cara Brookins of Little Rock, Arkansas to be guest speaker at Harlingen Book Festival

    Harlingen Book Festival 2013

    Guest Speaker, Harlingen Book Festival

    Cara Brookins: Guest Speaker, Harlingen Book Festival

      Noted Arkansas Writer Cara Brookins will be a featured speaker for the Harlingen BookFestival, Saturday, May 11. nike air max chaussure She has published four books, with her new Timeshifters series just accepted by Buzz Books. cheap albion gold Brookins will preview and release information on her first book of the series, Mark of the Centipede, which will be released on May 14. Asics Kinsei 5 męskie Cara Brookins is the girl you see with a book in her hand. Temple Owls buy albion silver If she’s not writing one, she’s reading or plotting one. This multitalented author has an artistic side and loves to build things with wood, concrete, clay, tile, and paper maché. cheap albion silver She and her children even built their house from the ground up. Air Jordan 10 Retro
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    “1993” Song Lyrics by Rickey Pittman

    “1993” by Rickey Pittman This song was inspired by a very good friend of mine who had a very hard year. Jordan Jumpman Air Max 2017 Goedkoop buy albion gold The part of his going to Mexico is more or less true. air max 2017 blu donna

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    Veterans Day: A Special Event in the Rio Grande Valley

    Dear Veterans of the Rio Grande Valley:
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    “You Don’t Know” by Rashida Jones Chords and Lyrics

    Rashida Jones “You Don’t know” I was waiting on the movie Sylvia to come on and a movie, Monogamy, was ending. Nike Air Max 2017 Heren groen albion silver Rashida Jones, pictured here, was playing an acoustic version of this song. nike air max buy albion silver You can here her play it here on YouTube. Goedkoop Nike Schoenen buy albion gold I was so moved by the song, I wanted to post it. Tajh Boyd – Clemson Tigers cheap albion gold The chords are a simple C to F and back to C progression. Maglie Atlanta Hawks albion gold C Fimages There was once a boy, nine years old C F Wanted a girl to have and hold C F There was once a girl, she was out there too C Told the boy, I’m going to marry you C F You don’t know what I can do Gonna be the one to fill my shoes (C) You don’t know what I can be (F) Gonna be the one who looks like me (C) There was once a girl, nine years old, She wanted a boy to have and hold There was once a boy, he was out there too Said to the girl, I’m gonna marry you. Canotta Dallas Mavericks cheap albion gold You don’t know what I can do, Gonna be the one to fill my shoes, You don’t know what I can be Gonna be the one who looks like me. AIR PEGASUS 92-16

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