Double-thick curtains drawn tight. The swish & flow of linen & lace. I peek through the long slash of light. Do you think he knows we’re here,  my sister Katherine whispers. I reply, Don’t fret. He’s already down by the boxcars. Mama started it by fixing him a tuna club with two pecan sandies. My sister thought he broke out of the state penitentiary. She made me double-bolt the front & back doors & the first-floor windows.

scary southern nights

railcars scramble
hoot owls & gunshots