How to Dispatch a Human by Stephanie Andrea Allen

Author:Stephanie Andrea Allen [Allen, Stephanie Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: BLF Press LLC
Published: 2021-01-15T06:00:00+00:00

TUMBLEWEAVE

Her track was hanging by a thread, but the woman didn’t care, focused as she was on making her escape. She’d dropped the baby’s pink and purple bug-eyed bear on the ground, but she’d get her another one. The man had threatened her with a knife yesterday, so there was no time to waste. As she rounded the corner of the block, her tired track finally let go, leaving a gap in her bang.

“Whew, I’m glad to be free of that drama,” said the track. The fine hairs fanned out in the breeze as they floated down to ground. Next to the track, we’ll call her Yaki, for her brand of weave was most popular among young Black women desirous of long, luxurious hair, lay a black and gray running shoe, red laces frayed and flopping near the tongue.

“How’s it hanging?” asked the shoe.

Yaki glanced at the shoe, curious, but not so much so that she deigned to respond.

“Oh, you one of them stuck up heffas. Whatever, girl. We all castaways down here, and you ain’t no better than the rest of us!”

Yaki strained her follicles to feel who was talking, and realized that it was a pair of nylon basketball shorts, seams split and so dirty it was hard to tell what color they were. Again, she ignored the voice and extended her follicles outward, wondering if there were more accomplished company in the woods adjacent to the road where she’d landed. Yaki didn’t know where she was going, but she knew that she didn’t like this place. She did not plan to spend the rest of her days with a pair of funky gym shorts and a tennis shoe.

It was then that she felt the bear, lost or abandoned by its owner. It had been quiet throughout her exchange with Shorts, (his given name), biding its time and watching with its weird bug-bear eyes, but now it spoke to her.

“Good evening. What brings you here on this fine summer eve?” The bear’s voice was deep, deeper than she’d imagined a child’s play thing would be.

“Well, nothing really. Okay, that’s not true. My head of hair was about to get in a fight and I was like, nope, not today. I’m tired of getting snatched, so I decided to cut loose while I still could. I can do better by myself.”

“Can you?”

“I think so. I mean, all I need to do is find another head of hair and get someone to sew me back in. I don’t like that glue, it clogs my follicles.” Yaki thought she had it all figured out. She’d wait for the right car to come by, preferably a Toyota or a Honda, anywhere from five to ten years old, and propel herself upward on a breeze and float down into an open window. The weather was nice, and this time of year most folks rode around with their windows down, including women with wayward weaves and wigs. She knew not to aim for any

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