July: Pink Casket, Steel Eyes Ada Helen Creola Sarinthia Carr waited until the half-size baby pink casket imbedded with silver angels was down the isle closely followed by a weeping mother, a confused seven year-old brother, and a slew of relatives and friends who appeared more distressed than the weeping mother. Mama Carr (that's what the neighborhood called her) took her time moving down the isle, her darkly varnished cane lending the support her eighty-seven year old joints needed. As she was passing the last row of chairs, a sudden chill ran through the left side of her body. She knew the sensation. Without missing a beat, she turned her head and locked eyes dead-on with a set as cold as steel. And a Cheshire smile. I'll take care of him. Tears stung her eyes as she silently pleaded for his soul. I have heard you. He will have just one more opportunity. Today. Because you asked. Mama Carr continued out the door of Murphy's Funeral Parlor. She would not go to the cemetery. Across the street in the vacant lot, the piles of Teddy bears and helium filled balloons stood guard over the spot where the rape and murder had taken place. No one had seen a thing. But the wild bush weed that grew there knew who did it. No one had heard a thing. A sock was found stuffed in her mouth. "Lord, time out for all these balloons and things. They don't solve the problem. Like marchin' doesn't solve anything anymore. Folks have to do something and keep on doing it over the long haul. Faithful folks who believe," her lip quivered and tears fogged the inside corners of her bifocals. "Mama Carr," a hand touched her arm, "let me give you a ride home." Aja Watkins, dressed to the nines as always, smiled into the soft brown leather of the old woman's face. Go with her.

Friday 28th December 6pm Mike Fenton checks his mobile for messages as he joins the swarm of workers that spill out of their concrete prisons onto the street as they make their way to the Tube. No messages. He shakes his head and exhales his frustration into the cold air that nips at his nose and ears. He adjusts his smart coat and grimaces. If his girlfriend Tina wasn’t so stubborn they could have been on a Christmas holiday in Barbados soaking up the sun instead of the wet and cold. He’d seen the perfect deal on the net but she didn’t want to miss her churches New Year event. His friends thought she was priceless, mad more like it. He can’t imagine any living breathing female that would pass up a luxury all expenses paid holiday in Barbados, because of a church event in London, in the middle of winter. He decides that this weekend he will take his friends advice and tell her to sort out her priorities.......

A tiny tree, barely 4 feet tall, stood there in the sparsely furnished apartment, blinking with nearly translucent coloured lights. It was the only remnant left of a once happy home in Christmases past. A star was still on top, dusted with a smattering of shiny silver glitter that had seen its share of faces from being handled from year to year. The kids used to laugh hysterically at each other when they noticed the sparkly noses and cheeks. Ah those precious memories.