I am a man who claims his father as his only inspiration.
Soothe the Mind
Yarn unspooled and rolled in a Wilmington, Delaware street. People walked around in the nude and paid no attention to the red thread that rolled and rolled. It was a frosty sixteen degrees Fahrenheit with the sun poking through the gray skies. Police officers remained in the buff as well. Everyone was doing it. To save the snails and the whales and birds and the worms, folks just walked with a devil-may-care attitude. On one street corner, a woman slashed her face after giving away a pair of shorts she had cherished, treasured, really, and started sobbing.
Glass tinkled against the concrete. A street light shimmered down on the shards in the wee hours of the morning. The Wilmington, Delaware native Agnes Sylvester, forty-five and chestnut colored and about five feet four inches, kept sweeping. Her storefront had been destroyed by a rock, a canister or something. All she knew was that she had to be vigilant.
Shielded from the Darkness
Cleaner, lubricant, preservative (CLP) applied to the weapon. The liquid oozed from the toothbrush from buttstock to barrel. Vigorous actions allowed for the thirty-four-year-old Kanila Milgrow to finish the last of the two AR-15 assault rifles.
Lights illuminated the stage. Uproarious applause abounded. The woman with a waist like a pencil and dark features walked to her mark. She wore a green dress and gold jewelry to match her black diamond skin. Her hair had been in locks with some flecks of gray.
President Byron Graves walked to the lectern. His dark face looked solemn and collected at the same time. He reached it. “Tonight, I can confirm significant casualties to the nations of North Korea, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Russia, and China. In a series of drone strikes, we destroyed portions of the cities of PyongYang, Riyadh, Tehran, Moscow, and Beijing. We estimate that there were at least ten to twenty five million people combined who perished in the destruction. This is a great win for the United States as this will be a leveling like Japan. Like that nation turned around from its imperialistic stance, the states which effused terror, despotism, and immorality, they will be given a new Declaration of Independence and Constitution.
Scents of baked bread and roses carried on the breeze. DeArte Collinsworth loved the summer. He was forty. Main Street in Newark, Delaware had returned to the sleepy town that it became during the two months where it is not populated with busy Delaware Institute of Technology (DIT) students. He was as light as the espresso and cream that he sipped outside of a cafe towards the end of the rows of shops. He wore a white linen shirt with khakis and cognac loafers. He was away from his office in Wilmington, Delaware this Tuesday. He relaxed. He sipped. The warm beverage danced on his tongue and the bittersweetness propelled his mind.
Diamond State of Mind
The label on the box read, “Federal Government” in thick red letters. Diamond State Capital (DSC) CEO Jost McNair, blackberry skinned with steely brown eyes behind glasses. He stood at six feet tall looked down at the sizable box. He was thirty six. He ran DSC from his corner office in Wilmington, Delaware.
Three sets of dog tags sat locked in the glove compartment box. A mid size sedan parked in the place reserved for employees only. Green scrubs and male cloggy shoes clothed thirty-four-year-old Barrington Volt. He was six feet two inches tall and had the skin color of a date. He maneuvered with the coffee and the bagels with one hand. Then, he performed the acrobatic feat of closing the door with his feet.
A Passionate Grace
A bass guitar strummed out a mean tune. The power of the rhythm guitar screamed and wailed as the drums thrummed the beat. The lead singer screeched the finale of the song. Applause reverberated around the high-tech concert hall. The hall served as a school auditorium and the students showed their musicianship at the Redding Academy for Performing Arts (RAPA). The students all hugged each other and looked out at the crowd. The lights on the stage dimmed and the house lights illuminated.
The Only Juice
The platinum watch flung into the air. Six hundred thousand dollars worth of craftsmanship and focus just landed on the large oak desk. A black man, CEO of Fortune Foods Harvard Golpin, 42, started to undo his one hundred dollar red power tie. He loosened the top to his five hundred dollar dress shirt and tore off his suit jacket and ripped off his trousers, those garments totalling four thousand dollars together.