Yahriel

Joined August 2021

5 stories

Bio

I've spent the majority of my life in conflict with myself... about myself. Therefore, I wrote the book that I needed to read.

James Baldwin, Maya Angelou, Octavia Butler, and Zora Neal Hurston (just to name a few) We SPEAK your names Ase'

Stories (5)

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Uhambo
Voya Entry for Greenlight Uhambo By Yahriel The greenlight switched to red as Melinda gathered herself. It was lunch time in the beautiful downtown city of Atlanta. Melinda’s thick tresses were disheveled, but not enough for anyone to think of her to be nothing more than a pretty lady who had fallen in the crosswalk. Having received help from strangers to get on her feet, Melinda now sat on the sidewalk comfortably fading from reality. Her opaque tights showed through to her nutmeg-shaded skin as she sat in the direction of the crosswalk between Starbucks and Georgia State University. Students crossed, oblivious to their surroundings. With heads and eyes dedicated to their cell phones, juicy conversations, or quick bites of food to tie them over till the next meal. Melinda managed to attract first one, then four and now 5 pedestrians who were whispering among themselves about what to do.
By Yahriel4 years ago in Fiction
Tuesday in D Minor
“Awwww my baaaaay-beh!! My baaaayyy-beh?! Git up, boy?! You cain’t die on me! Git up!” I don’t know what was worse…. hearing Mama constantly screaming, or the fact that my baby bruh’ was lying in the middle of our living room in a pool of his own blood.
By Yahriel4 years ago in Fiction
Kuporesa:
“Ride on Ki-ing Jee-sus! No man can-nah HINDER THEE!” St. Claire Renault and Shekinah sang in 3-part harmony with St. Claire switching from the alto part to the tenor note, as she forced the duet to work as a trio while continuing the song that was practiced in choir rehearsal. The red 2009 Ford explorer traveled down Buford Highway and it’s paint job was as shiny and new as any of the 2018 models of Ford Explorers on the road. St. Claire was nothing short of a ‘neat freak’, who incorporated the ways of OCD into everything that she was involved in. Artistic, carefree, and abandoned, Shekinah was determined to make this foster-care placement work. She played the role of a “good girl” in exchange for all of St. Claire’s idiosyncrasies, rules, and misconceptions about being able to sing on pitch.
By Yahriel4 years ago in Fiction
All That Really Matters
I’d have to honestly admit that there really was a sense of peace in the air…that is once I finally got Mom out of the car and carried up the twelve front stairs of the church. This exalted space had no regard for state law and absolutely no consideration for the handicapped. At her behest, I’d struggled to drag my mother out of her dying bed at the Hopewell Hospice Home and get her dressed for a Miracle Healing Revival service with the world-renowned Prophet Eugene Sistrunk. Although my mother had served for more than twenty years as a faithful tither and member at the Holy Waters Church of the Divine Deliverance, Inc….it had been a whopping three years since she’d been dying of cancer and not one member of that church had come by to visit…. not one. Yet, she faithfully sent her tithe money which was a ten percent portion of her allowance that I sent to the hospice from Ann Arbor, Michigan every month.
By Yahriel4 years ago in Fiction
Pearls of Fate
(Deep southern accent of an older white woman around age 60) Uh huh...see there? They tell me you reap what you sow….uh huh…. I guess what I’m really trying to say is what goes around, comes around. What you start, God will finish. Oh, I’m sorry, let me introduce myself. I’m the beautiful antique pearl necklace that has been worn around the necks of many generations of damaged women. Now, I’m not just any old pair of stringed pearls, why I’m uniquely decorated with quartz crystal and other interesting amulets on a strong sterling silver chain. Some large round pearls. Some small and even tiny pearls. Some (spoken with deep southern drawl) whiiite and some gray; but all English cultured pearls, nevertheless. There’s a beautiful silk gray ribbon that twines its way through every chain and indeed, I’m something to behold. It’s hard for me to walk into a room amidst the neck of a beautiful damsel and not be noticed. Which is why I’ve always told those silly women NOT TO WEAR ME. It seems that whenever I’m worn, the ultimate tragedy takes place. If only Ruth had left me on Clarissa’s neck to begin with, maybe I’d have been buried in the ground with Clarissa, never to bear witness to any of the unfortunate tales I’m about to bestow upon you today.
By Yahriel4 years ago in Fiction

Yahriel

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Uhambo

Tuesday in D Minor

Kuporesa:

All That Really Matters

Pearls of Fate

Stories (5)