The monsters came busting through the doors with their green helmets, tall boots and guns pointing at everyone in the room, a loud voice called out,
“Who else is here?”
Just then a woman of thirty-nine came from a bedroom,
“Sir, only my children and me.”
This is my first recollection of the horrendous summer of 1965.
The Eyes of the Young Summer August 1965, is told through the eyes of a child of seven who cannot seem to understand why anyone would want to burn their town down, while in the streets the cries heard from the major black radio station , “Burn baby burn,” as the heat blares in the three digits during the day never cooling until seven days later as the town burns to the ground.
This is the second piece in a four part anthology