Hey! You there! Are you looking for something to read? Well, do I have the story for you. It’s on Amazon. It’s short. It’s an eBook. And it’s motherfucking free. For a short time. Go! Go! Go!

Everything Comes in Time - Kindle edition by N. Rae. Literature & Fiction Kindle eBooks @ Amazon.com.

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I’ve looked at photos of a murdered kid, his body in the street, shot six times by a cop who paces, wondering what the hell he’s done. I’ve watched video of a clearly distraught man, walking in circles on a sidewalk, two sodas he’s just stolen sitting on the curb, he yells and waits, and I believe he’s thinking: Do I deserve to die for such a crime? And two cops show up within minutes and kill him. Then they cuff him. As if his body is going to rise from the dead and avenge itself. If only. I’ve read an article about how “More than 300 women were shot, stabbed, strangled, beaten, bludgeoned or burned to death over the past decade by men in South Carolina, dying at a rate of one every 12 days while the state does little to stem the carnage from domestic abuse.” I’ve read some of the most disgustingly racist, totally bullshit internet comments I’ve ever read. I watched the James Foley video up until his beheading. I watched how it was sometimes hard for him to read off of the cue cards he was given because his mouth didn’t want to work. I watched him brace himself for his death. I thought about how I must be too influenced by Game of Thrones and that the knife seemed much too inadequate. Although, I’m sure such a deed could be accomplished with a spoon. I thought about Mr. Foley’s bravery. I said a prayer for him. I said a prayer for Mike Brown, for Kajieme Powell, for all the murdered women the world over. I said a prayer for all of us, for you. I thought about how I live a nice life, relatively safe, with all of this crazy, needless violence swirling around me. How unbearable it all is. There’s this awful buzzing I have in my blood tonight. It’s really quite terrible. Just this tight feeling running around inside me, making me feel as if I’ve gone mad. But here is my drink. My medicine. It will put a damper on my blood. It will make me feel better until the morning. A little escape from this world of ours which I don’t understand at all.



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Torchy the Battery Boy, 1960

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