“Heaven-Way House of Harlem” © June 5, 2021
By Deno Sandz
A stubborn few relaxed sit on the front stoop of the Heaven-Way House of Harlem on a Sunday morning. The sun shined down from an angle sending a glare across the street on to a 1967 Chevy Impala making the dull look perpetrate beauty as if a 2001 model. The smell of coffee from the inside the house ravaged the air as three young juveniles of different origins chilled, reminiscing. Along the ground beside them laid butts of Newport cigarettes in an array of a battle, as the morning breeze slowly dismantled their formation. The Heaven-Way House in the past was a haven for Christian acting, walking, and speaking people that on a good day formed a church.
Now, the house mother, Ms. Gills had only been employed by the house for a few weeks, due to the fact the Mr. Nays was caught in his office with one of the girls in a position unbecoming of his work ethics. The Heaven-Way House quaintly was built of brick and mortar. The interior of the house propelled you back to the renaissance years in Harlem with its décor.
Now, Susan one of the ones on the front stoop was black and Latino. She was kicked out of her home by her mother and father for being a lesbian. Her mother never understanding why she embraced this path or ever asked.
Shane, the white boy had become too black in a colloquialized nature against his birth and was dating a black girl, which did not fit so well with his parents, so they put him out the house. His parents were the typical offspring of a racial upbringing in Mississippi, yet moved to Harlem, because they too were sharecroppers with no money for upper status-que of being white.
Steven, an African American boy had different reasons for residing at Heaven-Way House. He lived there for being too black for his own parents. They lived in the suburbs of New York. His parents spoke totally proper and mingled with only white people and other races other than their own. His parents could have him being black in dialogue or mannerisms. His parents missed something that he could grasp. They wanted to be white, but there was nothing wrong with being black and prosperous. He believed they prayed for it, which was unacceptable to him.
The Heaven-Way House harbored so many issues of life’s bias and misconceptions. These juveniles were abandoned into this place of cultural and racial transparent calamity stemming from home.
Once wrote: “Home is where the heart is.” I beg the differ.
Fate must have thrown these three together that day on that stoop. They had an inner troubled spirit that would one day transcend their problems into a meaningful life, through Heaven-Way House. While the three sits there talking a strong wind emerges, stronger than the earlier wind that discarded the cigs on the ground. Their own cigarettes glowed from the encounter from the wind. They tossed them.
Suddenly, a man appeared in front of them stomping out ach cigarette, wearing a long white coat with shoes to match. His slacks were made of satin, his hat covered his eyes laying neatly over his black shades. The three stared for a moment and then Steven blurted out with the first question.
“Who are you?”
The white knight stood motionless for a moment and then spoke.
“Come with me.”
Steven looked at Susan and Susan looked at Shane.
“What the hell. Why not,” Susan spoke.
They rose and followed this unknown man with a spirit of happiness surrounding him. Their walk was short in essence and they ended up on the side of the Heaven-Way House building.
“Why are we here,” Steven asked.
“Turn and look at the wall please.”
Suddenly, smoke rose from the brick and mortar and they could not move.
“What’s happening,” Shane asked.
Slowly, they were submerged into the wall. When the smoke cleared the man stood there and with the sped of a turtle, he too submerged into the brick wall and he was gone. They all were.
Now, the darkness of the wall stood Susan, Shane, and Steven. Susan hollered out that she scared. Shane reached for her left hand and Steven reached for her right. From the darkness the man appeared as their light.
“Do not fear I am here.”
“Again, why are we here,” Steven asked.
Those words must had been the key to unlock the door, because one he spoke them a door opened and suddenly there was noise and light everywhere. They were all at Susan’s house standing in her living room unseen by her parents. Susan rarely talked about her little sister who just eleven years old.
“Why, I am here. Why did you bring me here,” Susan yelled?
The man placed his hand on her shoulder.
“There is always a reason for everything, and I know why you have taken up with others,” the man spoke.
The three looked on as Susan’s sister walked pass her parents on her way to her room. Susan’s father watches her sexually as she gives her mother a kiss before she passes him, still staring. Susan’s mother had a glass of vodka next to her, halfway drunk. Susan’s father turned drunk his entire glass of Vodka as her little sister walked pass. He then rose, turned the television up as the mother fell sound asleep from the liquor. He walked to his daughter’s room as she was taking off her clothes. The father proceeded to close the door behind him. Susan watched as her sister pleaded with him.
“No, not again, please daddy.”
But this was not the first time he had do it to them. He molested them every chance he got, and mom would not listen.
Susan could not take the visual.
“No more, no more,” Susan yelled, falling to her knees.
He raised his hands and the door closed in front of them.
“I’m so sorry Susan,” Steven and Shane spoke, as light of the man still shined on them.
“That motherfucker. I could kill him right now, Shane yelled.
“There are many reasons you come to live at Heaven-Way House. You will be blessed Susan. You two are next,” the man spoke, as they sat on the stoop of the house looking around.
To be continued.
#LBGT #junglefever #racialpassing.
“On a Street Corner called Love” ©
By Deno Sandz
It was not a sunny day and walking out a ten story office building were three different women at three different times. They had different styles of dress, different ways of walking, and of course different hair styles.
They didn’t notice me watching them as I sold my apples on the street corner called love, at the intersection of Love and Despair; south of the Cathedral church. I could not help but stare at their mannerisms, their noticeable pain, and their happiness, for I was an apple merchant selling sweet apples to the suffering of love.
The first woman out of the building walked as if she looked for love from the right man, but could not ever quite place her hands on him or find him.
The second woman’s walk expressed misery in her relationship with her supposed to be true love. Looking to me to be on the brink of insanity which is the place most underappreciated women end up.
Now, the third woman to exit the building seemed to be free of the doubt of being loved; filled with the love of her man. Believe me it showed as I sold five apples by the way she smiled at the wind. Her overwhelming takeover of the sun’s shine which made her face radiant. Her walked seemed to be prominent by this decorous looseness in her hips, as if she remembered and foreshadowed the love her man made to her the night before.
“Oh, yes. She was walking on cloud nine. And I was selling apples with no one to go home to.”
Even the shadows from other people on the streets leaving work fled from her.
Jealousy I suppose.
“Oh, yes. Cloud nine.”
The ground under her feet seemed to cushion her walk as she sauntered across the street, and me I sold apples. She was truly in love and being loved. I truly feel bad for the first woman out of the building who had never touched loving the heart, on the tips of her fingers, or even in the whisper of the word spoken, “I love you.”
I felt for the second woman too. She was in desperate need of a shoulder to lean on, a cheek to cry on, and a loving embrace from her inner self. Her befitting a woman lost and only fate could enlighten her emotional premise. Cupid’s arrow collided with the wrong man for her. Cupid sometimes lies making a woman’s destiny become a false reality.
What are the words, “I Love You?”
The power of the words, the subtleness in the words, and the calmness it gathers as it is spoken to someone. Were the two women fools in their search of or fools for finding false love?
Judge I shall not, because I have been in these two women’s world as a man selling apples on the corner of Love and Despair. It’s no joke. However, I have found my true love now. She walked out of the ten story office building across the street to my apple stand. I have to go. I’m cooking dinner tonight and for dessert. Guess what? APPLE PIE.
Catalog of Books by Acclaimed Horror Novelist, Deno Sandz
1. “Miss Mary Weather: A Southern Nightmare”
2. “Pen of Inquity”
3. “Icabob Shaw”
4. “The Sin Cup”
5. “The House of Shangri-la”
7. “Coup de’Hell…Book 1”
8. “Whorehouse on Penguin Creek”
9. “Once Messiah…Blood Between Two Towers”
10. “Latitude Longitude”
11. “Evil has a First Name”
13. “52 Devils”
14. “Devilz Wzisper”
15. “I, AM…A force of Relentless Evil”
16. “Cry Heaven Cry Hell”
17. “7even Dreams… A Dialogue with Evil”
18. “Disappeared in the Snow”
19. “Blood Plantation”
20. “Year of the Clouds”