Synopsis: Two Blocks from Slab Town is based on the actual events of Cissy, an eight year old girl, growing up in a Southern, rural town during the 1960’s. Her father was a World War II veteran suffering from a post traumatic stress disorder. Cissy lives two blocks from Slab Town, an area where homes were made out of rough, slabs of wood. These huts provided little protection from its predatory environment, animal as well as human. Cissy's mother was a clairvoyant, while her father was a clairsentient. She was able to survive and protect those around her by unleashing her sixth sense. As Cissy, I was glad to have this experience. I learned that a single flame can cut through the darkness making its own path.
Two Blocks from Slab TownPrimitive Protectorby Saturna Brown
Posted: 15:00 January 31, 2008
'The vibrations of mental forces are the finest and consequently the most powerful in existence." Charles Haanel
Mike walked in the door on a Saturday evening carrying a case of soda. I do not remember how he won the soda, but I do know he was not willing to share it. The wooden crate contained thirty-six bottles of various sodas. Mike warned Joey and me to keep our hands off of it!
Mother intervened. She asked him to give us a soda. Sulking, pulled out two bottles of cola. They were the smallest bottles in the case. He reminded us not to touch the rest of his sodas or else!
We were not deaf and dumb. We knew he would follow through with his threat. Mike was not someone to take lightly. He meant exactly what he said.
Mike has a reputation in the entire neighborhood, including Slab Town as being tough. You mess with Mike. You mess with getting hurt. His reputation began at the age of three. Here's the story:
Mike was playing in the yard at the time when two boys came walking home from school. One boy was in the first grade and the other in second. They began teasing Mike calling him a girl, since his hair was long badly needing a haircut.
His face turned red. "I ain't no girl."
"He's going to cry," teased the older boy.
The younger boy laughed. "Cry baby…cry baby…don't you wet your underwear."
Mike walked up to the edge of the yard. "Who are you calling a baby?"
"You are," said the six year old. He pushed Mike. Mike fell back and landed on his butt.
Furious, Mike pulled back his right hand forming a fist. He hit the boy in the stomach. The boy fell to his knees crying.
"You're the cry baby!" said Mike.
Suddenly, the older boy stood in front of Mike. Mike stepped on the boy's foot and ran.
The older boy limped over to his friend and helped him get up. "I'm going to tell my momma!"
All of a sudden, Mike appeared carrying a brick.
"Go ahead, Baby!" he yelled throwing the brick at the older boy. The brick hit him right in the face.
He screamed, "Momma! Momma!" He took off down the road with the younger boy at his heels.
Mike ran into the house and closed the door. He did not say a word to Mother, who was in the bathroom dying her hair. Mike crawled under his bed to grab a shoebox full of green, plastic soldiers. He dumped the contents on top of his bed and began playing with them.
|Click on the 'NEXT' arrow for page 2