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 TownWalk! Do Not Run!by Saturna Brown
Posted: 14:28 March 1, 2009
"To others we are not ourselves but a performer in their lives cast for a part we do not even know that we are playing." Princess Elizabeth Bibesco, 1897-1945
When Joey and I heard that a soda bottle was worth two cents, was when we went into the bottle business. Joey would jog along side my bike helping to pick up bottles on the side of the road. If they were dirty, we would clean them using the faucet behind Robert's Grocery Store. Once we filled up a brown paper bag I had taken from Mother's pantry, we were ready to cash them in.
One Sunday morning, we decided to squeeze through the bars at the nearby football stadium, and look for bottles. We ignored the 'No Trespassing' sign. Heck! I could read and I knew what the sign meant. However, my definition for 'no trespassing' meant, do not get caught.
I had to leave my bike at home since it had a flat tire. I did not look forward to walking while carrying a heavy load. But, Joey and I had a craving for sweets.
It did not take long to gather the bottles. I filled up the brown paper bag, while Joey tried to carry as many as he could under his arms. He was stumbling behind me, when I squeezed through the bars.
Suddenly, an uneasy feeling hit me in the pit of my stomach. A warning, I guess you could call it. I glanced around and noticed a police car in the distance. Poor Joey! He was too far away from the gate. I dropped my bag in the ditch. I went back through the bars after him.
At first, Joey did not want to drop the bottles and run. I grabbed him by the arm pulling him along. We managed to hide behind the bleachers. The police car pulled up to the entrance. A heavy-set policeman got out. He stood behind the bars of the gate. Thank goodness, he would not be able to squeeze through, like we did.
We did not move a single muscle. We waited and waited for him to leave.
Suddenly, I realized there was another entrance into the stadium. It was on the west side. Should Joey and I run for it? NO! My legs were too rubbery. Besides, I had never been a fast runner. I glanced at Joey. Gosh! He was squirming. Oh, no! I knew what that meant!
"You've got to go number one?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "It's number two."
"Oh, great!" I mumbled. "You're just going to have to hold it."
"I can't," he moaned.
"Then…you'll have to do it in your britches…and Mother's not going to like that!"
"I'll try to hold it," he squeaked.
I glanced in the direction of the police officer. He was gone!
I crawled on my hands and knees to check the other entrance. I just knew it! I did not see him, but I saw the car.
Well, it was time to get moving. I grabbed Joey's hand and ran like the wind to the north gate. We squeezed through the bars. I saw the paper bag with our bottles in it. I wanted to reach down and grab the bag. But carrying the bag would slow us down. So, we left it for now.
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