Not my Daughter

“Sit still.” I braced myself for the familiar sting of the plastic comb against some vulnerably-exposed area of my head, neck or shoulders. A few seconds passed and I slowly opened my clenched fists and eyes, relaxed my hunched shoulders, and tried my best not to move as I silently praised God for another escape…

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“All The Things I Should Have Said”

I email him and tell him that I want to see him. I send it…

midnight and indigo literary journal for black writers


I. Rose stood in her tiny, cluttered living room, trying to remember why she was…



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