Novella-Spring 2023

Woodrow Bailey.

“Lament Situations,” novella excerpt.

The sun peers through the window as Isaiah’s eyes catch their rays. His living room curtains are halfway open as he passes out on the couch in his clothes. He slept in peace for once as he was still holding the letter. Now he realizes this was valuable information he ignored. He suddenly leaps up, racing into his bedroom. A quick stop at the mirror as the vanity doesn’t matter now. His eyes puffed from sleep, which has not been kind to him. He’ll probably get rid of his clothes being permeated with the scents of a holding cell as the memory of possibly having a criminal record is also rattling in his brain. Noticing he is sidetracked, he walks to the nightstand pulling out several envelopes.  

For some reason, the daylight bothers him as he fishes through the letters. One addressed to him from his mother, which never opened, settles in his hands. It’s dated a year ago. He stares at it. As he opens the envelope, his emotions boil with anger.   

Isaiah,

hope all is well, son; you have reasons for not speaking to me, but I understand. I didn’t want to admit or face the music of many stupid decisions. I didn’t want to be held accountable for my actions, so I blamed your father and his family for my selfishness. I was trying to protect you, but I cost you the concept of family, and I’m genuinely sorry. You might not forgive me, and I hope to explain more to you soon.   

Your father tried to do right, but he just wanted to do him, and if two people should have never got together, it was us. Like the young folks, I got caught up in a moment, but I wanted him, so the greatest lie you can tell is to yourself. I did love him. You’re the byproduct of what we had. For that, I’m grateful.  

Your father’s family can’t stand me for taking you away from them or letting you know them, but I wanted you to grow up to be someone that people respected. Their lifestyle was simple, but this world is complicated, so I wanted you to be equipped for those challenges. When you get time, visit where you were born. I also lied to you, saying you were born in Los Angeles. Back then, the less you know, the better. I was wrong, son, about everything.   

If I don’t hear from you, I understand. The address is on a small piece of paper. A box with some information is coming soon that will answer all your questions.  

Despite me, I still love you.  

Ma.   

Jacqlyn Cope. “Soldaderas’ Revolution,” novella excerpt.

THREE- Huitzilopochtli

(Pictures Sources: Historical Museum of the Mexican Revolution, Mexico City)

Petra could feel the gravel under her boots as she walked along the main road by the plaza. The sun was beating down and she could feel the heat on her scalp. The conversation she overheard in the bar was stuck in her mind, and she tried to remember what the men said:

            “I bet Pancho Villa is waiting for us up there in Cuidad Juarez. I heard he gives a soldadera to any man who has fought for him in battle,” the man tipped his head up to the sky as he downed a shot.

            “Yeah, you know, you know, I think I deserve two. Lucia was a true shot through and through, and I got five of those Federales bastards in the eye. You know, that deserves a woman or two,” he said, belching between the last few words.

            They raised their glasses, “To war! Villistas! Villistas! Villistas!”

            Petra knew of Pancho Villa because Don Martinez would talk about him all the time. He called him a traitor to his country and scum of the earth, but Petra couldn’t believe that because her papa had fought for the revolution, and she knew her papa to be good and just.

            The men were so sure of themselves and their pistols. They had protection, and Petra knew she would get anyone to listen to her with a pistol in her holster. Mama had told her that fighting was not the way, but she felt the darkness inside her twist and reach up her throat when she made the final decision to go North. Maybe she could do what her father could not. Or she could show her mama that she could also heal others along the way. She wanted to believe that her mama would speak to her again. She desperately wanted it to be true.