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Two Blocks from Slab Town
(The True Story of a Young Girl with a Strange Gift)
by Saturna Brown

Posted: 20:11 April 6, 2008

Two Blocks from Slab Town
Time is like a river made up of the events which happen, and its current is strong; no sooner does anything appear than it is swept away, and another comes in its place, and will be swept away too. (Ib. Book IV. Para. 43)

Introduction: Two blocks from where I grew up, was a place known as ‘Slab Town,’ or ‘Hell Hole.’ The homes in Slab Town were built from slabs of rough wood, discarded by the nearby lumber yard. People who lived in these homes had their own wells and outhouses. In other words, they did not have electricity. Children born in the heart of Slab Town were wicked. I knew it, because I could FEEL the darkness inside them.

One of the most devastating times in my life occurred when I was in the third grade. I can remember those events as if they happened yesterday. For some reason, I endured living near that hell hole. Perhaps, it was by divine intervention or some special gift. Maybe, I am a clairvoyant or a witch. I really do not know. All I know is that I survived living two blocks from Slab Town.

Crying is for Losers

Part One

Three students were ahead of me, while I waited in line at the water fountain dying for a cool sip.

‘Sh-h-h, Mrs. Brown will hear you,’ I wanted to say to George, who was making noises, in front of me.

George must have read my mind, because he turned and sneered, “Your shoes are ugly like you!”

“You are going to get it,” I hissed.


“Ouch!” mumbled George facing straight ahead.

“I said ‘no talking’ in line!” growled Mrs. Brown walking away with the wooden paddle in her hand.

‘He thinks so tough! Let him cry like a baby.’ I whispered some words that popped in my head. Words I soon forgot. I heard him cry. He covered his mouth. A feeble attempt to block out the sound he was making, while I smiled to myself. I glanced down at the white, plastic shoes. They were ripped down the sides like an open can of sardines. I wore a pair of socks to provide some cushion against the hard plastic digging into my skin.

Suddenly, I felt someone’s finger on the bare skin of my stomach.

“Your button’s undone,” stated Mrs. Brown.

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More Articles by Saturna Brown:
It Goes Bump in the Dark
The Hidden Light

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