Valarie Thomas

Pages of Geechee Descent

I peeled the rat-eaten sheets from my clammy skin and tried my best to avoid the bed creaking as I got up, but that was pointless. Everything creaked in this busted-down house, from the rotten floorboards to the walls when the wind blew. I didn’t want to wake my husband, Earl, and I damn sure didn’t want to wake the three little ones we shared our bed with.