I remember in mid-march 2015, Kendrick Lamar’s second album debuted. One of my closest friends, who is white, had played it for his wife, who is also white. Needless to say, the first thirty seconds is a sample from Boris Gardiner’s “Every ____ is a star.” She promptly told him to turn it off. She was uncomfortable, and I understand. The first fourteen years of my life were a heavy combination of daily reminders and academic study into the bloated, complicated, and emotionally traumatizing history of slavery. My elementary school had taught me “Lift Every Voice and Sing” when I was four years old. Some people don’t know that there’s a Black National Anthem. I’d seen Roots, The Color Purple, Shaka Zulu, Panther, Rosewood, and Malcolm X by the time I was in seventh grade….
“Tobias and the Wildflower Utopia,” by Derrick R. Lafayette
“Can you help me?” “Are you positive of what you lost?” “Yes.” “You’ve lost your soul?” “Yes.” “Where?” “I’m not sure. I awoke one day hollow.” “Continue.” There was a pathway beyond the wildflower meadows. My brother told me the noises from there were the product of trickery. Auditory hallucinations sent from devils and pagan worshippers. On a night not entirely unforeseen, my mother took her final breath in bed. I held a dying candle at her side. The embers cast a dreadful shadow upon the wall as if her soul was a silhouette. Dysentery had robbed her of her humanity. The smell tormented the house for days after. I suppose that was her way of saying she wasn’t ready. It left a silence in my home, which was filled with the sound of my…
“Heather, Ludwig and Nathaniel,” An Excerpt by Derrick R. Lafayette
LUDWIG I was surprised she’d read the first chapter. My tutor usually found small detours in any narrative I put forth. It reminded me of looking at a sheet through a magnifying glass, judging the components that hold it together. Inside my glasses were three strands of hair, dust, and a fingerprint, yet, I blinked away the annoyance and kept going. When I finally finished chapter two, I emailed my document to her. She unearthed a cellphone twice the size of her hand, stuck her face into the screen, and scrolled with her pinky. “Do you know what a journeyman is?” the tutor asked slyly, leaving a hum of arrogance in the question. “A nomad?” I responded, unsure. “Ah, but you do know what failure is?” “A worker or sports player who is reliable but…
“Demon Road,” A Short Story by Derrick R. Lafayette
I lived in a castle made of mud. Solid enough to make you feel caged. Light barely escaped the brown warped walls. The house had so many ancestors pass away inside, that layers of its spirit fought each other seasonally. I was doomed. I believe it was late autumn when my stomach’s emptiness corresponded with my heart. After fifty-five days in solitude, the hunger monster devoured me. Food was to be acquired. There used to be another person to handle these things during the summer. However, the sunlight tempted her to search for buried treasure in the cityscape. She thought there were buildings, roads, and regular life beyond the mountains, past the desert plain. All things inside the dome. I located the area map before she did and destroyed it. I thought about her wandering hopelessly every night. Helped me sleep. The gun seemed to gain ten pounds since the last time I…