J.B. Talamantes
Bio
I just like writing.
Stories (3)
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Teal is Her Favorite Color
The field is radiant, illuminated by large spotlights that separate it from the black and cold contrast of the late October sky. It’s Friday night in the small town of Bishop, California. Two teams line up on the line of scrimmage for the last play of the game as the scoreboard clocks down to 00:00. The booming voice of the announcer peeks up over the field speakers:
By J.B. Talamantes5 years ago in Humans
Freddie
Freddie My mother and I arrived at Gator’s home, late to the party. Typical for us, but still. I’m holding a cheap bottle of wine, and some dip. You can’t forget the dip. Inside we’re greeted, and I meet Gator for the first time. We have dinner, and after, sit around the bar stools in the kitchen, sipping wine and talking off our full bellies. In the upper left hand corner of my wandering eye, I catch a small glimpse of interest. I turn to see a colorful 2x2 blown up photograph, hanging on the wall. It’s a picture of a black man standing next to a white pickup truck. The contrast of the picture sparks my imagination in a way I never quite felt before from looking at a photograph. A desire, of sorts, to learn about its contents, and explore the story hidden within its mystery. Who is this peculiar man, standing there in my small town, proud and mighty? I wonder. Someone I’d never met before. Someone who I’d never get the chance to meet at all, it turned out.
By J.B. Talamantes5 years ago in Humans
Freddie
Freddie My mother and I arrived at Gator’s home, late to the party. Typical for us, but still. I’m holding a cheap bottle of wine, and some dip. You can’t forget the dip. Inside we’re greeted, and I meet Gator for the first time. We have dinner, and after, sit around the bar stools in the kitchen, sipping wine and talking off our full bellies. In the upper left hand corner of my wandering eye, I catch a small glimpse of interest. I turn to see a colorful 2x2 blown up photograph, hanging on the wall. It’s a picture of a black man standing next to a white pickup truck. The contrast of the picture sparks my imagination in a way I never quite felt before from looking at a photograph. A desire, of sorts, to learn about its contents, and explore the story hidden within its mystery. Who is this peculiar man, standing there in my small town, proud and mighty? I wonder. Someone I’d never met before. Someone who I’d never get the chance to meet at all, it turned out.
By J.B. Talamantes5 years ago in Humans
