Creative Story

Janie’s own porch.

“Why yes Mrs.. Peaches that game of checkers out on that ol’ porch last night was something!

The jars of food that my hands done come so accustomed to stacking and selling are mah only company and are da few things that really listen to wha ahs got to say. Mah ol duster be mah best friend, following all mah strokes and chasing away the dust bunnies. When I talk, mah own husband is not even listening, although he hears me oh too well, he don never listen, but he be da wall I can’t never climb over, making sure ah do everyting just like he wants.

“No Mr. Salt this ain’t no new dress, but you like the way it looks on me? Why thank you, you such a flirt, you know ah a married woman!”

Joe be the boss of this here town, never letting me do nothing but serve him, and stay up in this here store. My feet don got their own agenda wearing down the roads for they walk the same path ever’ morning. Joe don’t ever see me sad for I cry invisible tears for that man. The man who don made my life so happy, so rich, but so empty. Ain’t nothing more than Mrs. Mayor sparks. Nothing but a tired woman hiding behind the cloth on her own head. A cloth which hides da laughter, da smiles, da love, and da compassion I