Page 1 of Deadly Sights

CHAPTER 1

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Memory Made Dream

I close my eyes and darkness falls

Beneath my lids, an invitation to the unknown.

Is it real?

A fleeting memory from a lifetime ago?

Or is the child standing amid the playground an illusion?

A hope long buried, designed to make me yearn?

This burning sensation leaps

From the abyss that resides in my chest.

Or is this somehow something altogether different?

A sign of foreboding or a fortune out of reach?

— JANINE MCFARLANE

Creative Gifts

Joyful laughter and running children scattered across the Creative Gifts playground. Among the ruckus, one solitary white boy stood off to the side. Crouched close to the ground, only he knew what held his fascination. For the two girls playing together mere feet from him, his unique knowledge could not stand.

Because the weather was unpredictable this time of year and frost continued to visit the area and harden the ground, the boy’s actions further intrigued the girls. Did his behavior have to do with the change in today’s weather? It was mid-March and the temperature had warmed and the sun shone brightly.

The girls, through silent consensus, approached the boy and crouched down on either side of him, staring as he poked the ground with a stick.

“What’re you doing?” asked the little Black girl wearing bright-colored hair beads at the ends of her cornrows.

“I’m digging a hole,” the boy said.

The other Black girl who had her hair in afro puffs lowered her head to the ground. “Why?”

“None of your business.” He stood, tightening his hold on the stick.

Both girls rose and stared him down despite his towering height, fearless in the face of his darkening glower and reddening face.

“Ooh, you’ve got a secret. Is it treasure?” Hair beads girl reached for his pockets.

“I said it’s none of your business!” He shoved her, causing her to stumble a few steps but not fall, then he walked away to crouch in a new spot.

The two girls looked at each other, shrugged, then flanked him. This time, they were quiet as they observed the boy with a temper.

He started a new hole, ignoring the two girls. Or he tried to. He stole glimpses of the girls who watched intently instead of joining the other children.

The dirt was like frozen clay, thick and difficult to dig. After what seemed like ages, he made a quarter-sized hole in the ground.

The silence from the two girls prompted him to blurt, “I’m making a trap!”

“It can’t be a good one.” Hair Beads folded her arms.

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