Let It Burn

Fiction & Literature
Cover of the book Let It Burn by Satellite Stevens, Xlibris US
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Author: Satellite Stevens ISBN: 9781483643601
Publisher: Xlibris US Publication: May 28, 2013
Imprint: Xlibris US Language: English
Author: Satellite Stevens
ISBN: 9781483643601
Publisher: Xlibris US
Publication: May 28, 2013
Imprint: Xlibris US
Language: English

I remember being three years old standing inside my doorway in a checkered red dress. My older brothers and sisters were on the porch. I heard a shot and a scream. Everybody yelled for me to get back in the house. My sisters flew inside at the insistence of my mother. We watched from the window as police cars came streaming down the road with their lights flashing. There were loud sirens. Then an ambulance followed. I was fighting to get my face to the window so I could see but I wasnt big enough. I became frustrated and cried, wet tears filling my face, so my oldest sister lifted me up. Then word got around that the man who was killed was the boy Jasons father, who lived up the street. I knew Jason and liked him. He had a pretty face and a big smile. Every time he came by the house and I was standing on the porch, he would say hi and call me by my name. Sometimes he would say, Are you being a good little girl? Other times he would say, You look very pretty. I thought about Jason and how he felt. He stood tall and proud and seemed like an old little kid, much older than me. He seemed caring inside and always dressed nice. I never knew my father, so I often wondered what it was like to have a father. I wondered what a man did in the house. Now I wondered about Jason. I wondered if he was going to cry. I wasnt allowed to go to the funeral, but I really wanted to. I wanted to see him and make sure he was okay. I wanted to tell him I wished those men didnt shoot his father.

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I remember being three years old standing inside my doorway in a checkered red dress. My older brothers and sisters were on the porch. I heard a shot and a scream. Everybody yelled for me to get back in the house. My sisters flew inside at the insistence of my mother. We watched from the window as police cars came streaming down the road with their lights flashing. There were loud sirens. Then an ambulance followed. I was fighting to get my face to the window so I could see but I wasnt big enough. I became frustrated and cried, wet tears filling my face, so my oldest sister lifted me up. Then word got around that the man who was killed was the boy Jasons father, who lived up the street. I knew Jason and liked him. He had a pretty face and a big smile. Every time he came by the house and I was standing on the porch, he would say hi and call me by my name. Sometimes he would say, Are you being a good little girl? Other times he would say, You look very pretty. I thought about Jason and how he felt. He stood tall and proud and seemed like an old little kid, much older than me. He seemed caring inside and always dressed nice. I never knew my father, so I often wondered what it was like to have a father. I wondered what a man did in the house. Now I wondered about Jason. I wondered if he was going to cry. I wasnt allowed to go to the funeral, but I really wanted to. I wanted to see him and make sure he was okay. I wanted to tell him I wished those men didnt shoot his father.

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