EXCERPT FROM "EDDIE J"
I was three when my father died. I don't remember much, but I wish I could. Like maybe his arms holding me, or even his voice telling me a story at night. But nothing. He is like a dream I keep having; like if I didn't think about him I wouldn't be sure he even existed. I have a couple of photos my mother doesn't know about in a shoebox in my closet. I used to look at them everyday when I was younger, especially when Momma and Rex would fight. Every time they would get started I would stop whatever I was doing and go to my room and turn on my Playstation. As I would load the game, Momma would ask some question to Rex that she already knew the answer to, like When you plan to start working?? or How you expect me to keep paying this rent?? I don't know why she would ask the same questions; she always got the same answers and it always made her mad. Rex would gruff and tell her to mind her business and that he was trying, but we both knew he was lying.



Jes'ka N.L. Washington was born in California, but quickly moved her roots to the deep south where she learned about the pleasure of grits, sweet potatoes, and BBQ chicken. More importantly, she found the power of the pen and began writing poetry and short stories at the age of 10. . .