Sankofa Literary Society Bookclub

2008 Literary Cruise in DC and Maryland

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Fri, 30 May 2008 08:05:23 -0700

EDC Creations is hosting a midnight cruise Saturday, August 16, 2008 to showcase books released in time for the 2008 Holiday Season!

Spend a moonlit evening with 15 meetup groups, 10 book clubs, and 30 hot authors while cruising on Odyssey Cruises. For avid readers and lovers of fictional books, we offer fine dining, networking, and entertainment on the Potomac, in Washington DC.

The first 20 people to register, will attend the event with Ella in a Stretch Hummer and sit at a special VIP table with The Black Authors Network Featured Authors!

Readers dance, party, and network with the hottest authors on the planet! Free books will be given away, as well as promotional baskets by local business owners.

The moon will be full, the music jumping, don't miss a chance to meet Mr. or Ms. Right during our speed dating segment! Click the image for full details.

Email Ella if you would like to be a part of a romantic cruise in DC. Complete with authors signing new releases, sensual poetry, dancing, speed dating, previews of the best books published for the holidays.

The buffet is included, as well as a welcome bag sponsored by Xpress Yourself Publishing, Simply Said, and A Good Book, bookstore along with fantastic 5 bookclubs.

Are you coming to party with us? It's Ella's birthday too! If you have an August or September birthday too, come on let's all celebrate together.

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SLS Audio Bookclub

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Fri, 23 May 2008 05:12:23 -0700

SLS Audio Bookclub

Do you have a new book release?
Do you have a sassy short story to share?
Have you written one of the hottest poems on the scene?

Well, tell the world at the Black Authors Network!

Create a podcast of you reading directly from your work, for our book lovers and fans. For a limited time, we are showcasing books and poems in the SLS Audio Bookclub. The SLS Audio Bookclub is in 100+ feeders, creates 2 newsletters, and we distribute the recordings on 2 radio shows!

Record your 3-10 minute podcast, so that we can share it with our 15,000+ SLS newsletter members, from around the world. Tell all your friends--repost--share!

Our goal is to showcase 100 stars in June and July, 2008!

Listen to a sample here:

http://paradigmshiftaap.vox.com/library/post/victoria-wells-book-preview.html

Record your podcasts now: Call (214) 615-6505 ext. 9530
No charge to call (long distance may apply)

Please follow these instructions closely:

1. Only record 3-10 minute of audio; do not try to add music
2. Do not just hang up when finished; hit the 3-key to SAVE
3. Leave your book or poem title at the start and end, also your name and website address
4. Email Ella all your information at: ellacurry@edc-creations.com
5. Put this in the subject line: SLS Audio Bookclub

Telephone Prompts:
Hit to STOP the recording
If you mess up--immediately hit the sign and start again
Press the 1-key to listen to your recording
Press the 2-key to re-record your recording
Press the 3-key to SAVE the recording

Your podcasts will be emailed to you, after you notify Ella of your information.

Warmest regards,

Ella Curry,
President/CEO EDC Creations
Black Author Network Radio-Founder
Sankofa Literary Society-Founder
A Good Book-Marketing Director

Xpress Yourself Publishing-Publicist

WoMEN-NPower (DC Chapter) Member

BAN coming soon to The Black Men in America blog!

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Victoria Wells: Book Preview

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Thu, 22 May 2008 19:12:19 -0700

Summervictoria

"A Special Summer is a new captivating debut for Victoria Wells. Exciting characters and true to life situations will keep you wanting more."

Dianthia Lemons, Reviewer for Romance In Color

Visit Victoria's Site for More Information

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Essence Book Festival, July 4-6, 2008

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Sun, 18 May 2008 08:09:42 -0700

Essence Book Festival
July 4-6, 2008
Host Hotel: Wyndham Riverfront Hotel
Ernest N. Morial Convention Center in New Orleans, Louisiana

Attention authors, poets, booklovers, and fun seekers EDC Creations owner, Ella Curry, will be attending the 2008 Essence Book Festival, July 3-7, 2008. If you would like to share a room and explore the festivites with EDC Creations, please read all the information below. This invitation is limited to 12 party goers!

The ESSENCE Music Festival hosts three full days of dynamic speakers at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center. No tickets needed. Just come and enjoy!

List of seminars below:
http://www.essence.com/essence/emf/seminars.html

Daytime Festival activities at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center will feature the free and open-to-the-public ESSENCE Empowerment Seminars, non-profit community organization exhibits, food booths showcasing world renowned New Orleans cuisine, the Festival's book fair, author signings, celebrity meet-and-greets, sponsor exhibits, the Essence Boutique, as well as the popular ESSENCE Marketplace.

ESSENCE MARKETPLACE will be open July 4, 5, and 6 from 9:30 a.m. to 6:00 p.m. at the Ernest N. Morial Convention Center in New Orleans, Louisiana.

EDC Creations Event Hotel:
Wyndham Riverfront Hotel--$325.00 includes 4 night stay
701 Convention Center Boulevard
New Orleans, LA 70130
Phone: (504) 524-8200
Check out the hotel: www.wyndhamriverfront.com

Booking room for: July 3-7, 2008
Ella is checking in July 3 and checking out July 7; you can adjust your schedule

Wyndham Riverfront Hotel- Superbly-situated among New Orleans hotels, the Wyndham Riverfront is positioned between Harrah's New Orleans Casino and Ernest Morial Convention Center. New Orleans is within easy walking distance of many of the city's most notable attractions including the French Quarter, The Riverwalk, Canal Place Shopping, the Aquarium of the Americas, the Art District and more. Check-in Time: 3:00 PM; Check-out Time: 12:00 Noon

If you are interested in attending the 2008 Essence Book Festival with EDC Creations, please pay the $200.00 non-refundable deposit today. Offer ends June 8, 2008. Ella is available for questions at: ellacurry@edc-creations.com

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THE SAGA OF TWO FAMILIES

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Sun, 11 May 2008 18:40:11 -0700

THE SAGA OF TWO FAMILIES

Rehoboth Road and The Dancing Willow Tree

Location: Rehoboth, Georgia
A Fictitious Community Located Thirty Minutes South Of Macon, Georgia

Rehoboth Road opened in 1950 Rev. John Turner was a tall, well built, pleasing to the eye, handsome man in his late thirties. He was a proud man and was well respected in the community. He believed the words of the Bible were the only acceptable way of living a Christian life. He was a proud man and although he preached that he was called by the Lord, he failed to realize it was his duty to first minister to those who were lost; he considered them too lost to heed the word of God.

When his daughter, Elizabeth delivered her son in the girl’s bathroom at the high school, Reverend Turners was only concerned with how much she had disgraced him. He disowned her and her son, Johnny for the next thirty-six years, even when he had finally realized the truth about her being raped by his assistant pastor, Rev. Owen Oliver.

Rehoboth Road is a work of fiction that was inspired by an elderly family friend who shared her secret of being raped at age fifteen with me. Soon after its publication, many people asked if my friend became pregnant by her rapist and I said no. Today, My Friend is in the moderate stage of Alzheimer disease and last fall I met a lovely lady who appeared to be in her late seventies. She told me she was My Friend’s daughter.

I believe My Friend told me her story because she had been diagnosed with the early stages of Alzheimer and she didn’t want her secret to be lost; she wanted to be counted along with the hundreds of thousands of other women who had been violated and who are still being violated today. There are other messages that came from Rehoboth Road. Among them are:

- Even when you have let go of the Lord’s hand, He is still holding on to you.

- Parents and guardians protect your children. Don’t dismiss the things they say.

- Parents and guardians teach your children that the lease likely person they come in

contact with may be a child molester. With reference to their body, if something

doesn’t feel right, it isn’t right.

- Parents and guardians must teach their children, ‘When to Tell’. And parents and

guardians must listen and take the necessary action.

Rehoboth Road Book Information

Publisher: Genesis Press Inc

Page: 385

ISBN 10: 1-58571196-9

ISBN 13: 978-15857119-6-3

Retail Price: $12.95

Purchase online and bookstores

The Dancing Willow Tree

In 1950, young Elizabeth Turner was raped by Reverend Oliver, the assistant pastor of her father’s church. After a hidden pregnancy she gave birth to a son, Johnny. Reverend Turner, Elizabeth’s father refused to respond to her story of rape and disowned her and her son. He forced Elizabeth and his wife Loretha to hide the identity of the baby’s father and live the next thirty six years with lies and secrets.

In 1986, Reverend Oliver was forced to confess to his family as well as the Turner family, but before he could leave Rehoboth he became seriously ill. The ripple effect of his confession touches everyone causing them to have an array of physical and emotions reactions. As Elizabeth continued to move on with her life, she didn’t know the secret her husband, Nat harbored was the cause of his suffering and enormous pain.

Thea, Reverend Oliver’s wife, could not escape the disgrace and shame she was feeling. She watched painfully as her son, Malcolm tried to forge a relationship with his brother, Johnny. And she never knew Malcolm was also struggling to come to terms with his sexuality.

Thea’s most plaguing dilemma had to do with her relationship with her husband. Her only consolation was an old weeping willow tree in her front yard where the graceful branches would dance on the mild summer breezes. Thea called it her dancing willow tree and she would sit under it daily to pray and receive guidance from the Lord. She knew if her husband was to be saved, she had to give him a life threatening ultimatum

The Dancing Willow Tree Book Information

Publisher: Black Deer Books

Page: 212

ISBN 10: 0-9729455-2-0

ISBN 13: 978-0-9729455-2-3

Retail Price: $15.00

Release date: October 26, 2007 Early release to the publisher, Black Deer Books.

Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Books a Million, and other online sites. May be purchased through major book stores.

The much awaited sequel, The Dancing Willow Tree, addresses family disgrace, hidden paternity, and questionable sexuality, while presenting a series of ultimatums. The readers will take an unforgettable literary journey.

Note: 15% of all book sales will be donated to the American Breast Cancer Foundation.

Anita Ballard-Jones is touring America greeting book lovers and the publishing community. She is available for book signings, bookclub chats, and all literary events. Email requests for speaking engagements or bulk book orders to: Email: ABallardjo@aol.com. The Dancing Willow Tree is available for purchase at all major online book sellers, Amazon.com, and through the author.

The Dancing Willow Tree | Released Oct.26, 2007 | ISBN-10: 0972945520 | ISBN-13: 978-0972945523

Contact:
A. Jones
Black Deer Books
P.O. Box 841
Henderson, NC 27536
Telephone: 252- 432-1518
Email: ABallardjo@aol.com
Website: http://www.anitaballard-jones.com

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Black Expressions Author Returns to Rehoboth Road

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Sun, 11 May 2008 18:33:19 -0700

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE:

Contact:

A. Jones
Black Deer Books
P.O. Box 841
Henderson, NC 27536
Telephone: 252- 432-1518
Email: ABallardjo@aol.com
Website: http://www.anitaballard-jones.com

Black Expressions Featured Author Returns to Rehoboth Road

Henderson, N.C., March 29, 2008 — Anita Ballard-Jones, author of the highly acclaimed Rehoboth Road, releases the sequel, The Dancing Willow Tree. The Dancing Willow Tree continues the action filled saga of two families, which have been harboring secrets, lies, and emotional pain. Rehoboth Road was released on July 7, 2006, and during the same month it was the featured book for the Black Expressions Book Club. Today, it remains one of Black Expressions’ member favorites. Within weeks of the release, Anita began receiving e-mails from her new fans from every corner of the United States and the United Kingdom, and it continues to this day. Everyone sang their praises for Rehoboth Road, and almost everyone asked for a sequel. Ms. Ballard-Jones says, "The Dancing Willow Tree was written for the love of her fans."

Thirty-six years later in The Dancing Willow Tree, Reverend Turner is in is late seventies and he has had a major heart attack. The pain he caused Elizabeth and Johnny, and the rift he created in his family have taken a toll on him. In 1986, Reverend Oliver was forced to confess to his family as well as the Turner family that he raped Elizabeth. The ripple effect of his confession touches everyone causing them to have an array of physical and emotions reactions. As Elizabeth continues to move on with life, she didn’t know her husband, Nat was holding a secret that was causing him to suffer enormous pain.

Note: 15% of all book sales will be donated to the American Breast Cancer Foundation.

The Dancing Willow Tree | Released Oct.26, 2007 | ISBN-10: 0972945520 | ISBN-13: 978-0972945523

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Old Age, I decided, is a gift...

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Tue, 06 May 2008 09:02:36 -0700

Old Age, I decided, is a gift..........

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not
my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or
a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.

I don' t chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avant garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat,
to be messy, to be extravagant..

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60 & 70's, and if I, at the same time,
wish to weep over a lost love . I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into
the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set .
They, too, will get old. &nb sp;
I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose
a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car?
But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care le ss about what other people think. I don't    question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free.  I like the person I have become.
I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could
have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it)

MAY OUR FRIENDSHIP NEVER COME APART ESPECIALLY WHEN IT'S STRAIGHT FROM THE HEART!

MAY YOU ALWAYS HAVE A RAINBOW OF SMILES ON YOUR FACE AND IN YOUR HEART FOREVER AND EVER!

FRIENDS FOREVER!

EDC Creations

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Sisters presented by Kim Sims

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Tue, 06 May 2008 08:45:38 -0700

Sisters

A young wife sat on a sofa on a hot humid day,

drinking iced tea and visiting with her Mother. As

they talked about life, about marriage, about the

responsibilities of life and the obligations of

adulthood, the mother clinked the ice cubes in her

glass thoughtfully and turned a clear, sober glance

upon her daughter.

'Don't forget your Sisters,' she advised, swirling

the tea leaves to the bottom of her glass. 'They'll

be more important as you get older. No matter how

much you love your husband, no matter how much you

love the children you may have, you are still going

to need Sisters. Remember to go places with them now

and then; do things with them.'

'Remember that 'Sisters' means ALL the women...

your girlfriends, your daughters, and all your other

women relatives too. 'You'll need other women. Women

always do.'

What a funny piece of advice!' the young woman

thought. Haven't I just gotten married?

Haven't I just joined the couple-world? I'm now a

married woman, for goodness sake! A grownup! Surely

my husband and the family we may start will be all I

need to make my life worthwhile!'

But she listened to her Mother. She kept contact

with her Sisters and made more women friends each

year. As the years tumbled by, one after another,

she gradually came to understand that her Mom really

knew what she was talking about. As time and nature

work their changes and their mysteries upon a woman,

Sisters are the mainstays of her life.

After more than 50 years of living in this world,

here is what I've learned:

THIS SAYS IT ALL:

Time passes.

Life happens.

Distance separates.

Children grow up.

Jobs come and go.

Love waxes and wanes.

Men don't do what they're supposed to do.

Hearts break.

Parents die.

Colleagues forget favors.

Careers end.

BUT.........

Sisters are there, no matter how much time and how

many miles are

between you. A girl friend is never farther away

than needing her can reach.

When you have to walk that lonesome valley and you

have to walk it by yourself, the women in your life

will be on the valley's rim, cheering you on,

praying for you, pulling for you, intervening on

your behalf, and waiting with open arms at the

valley's end.

Sometimes, they will even break the rules and walk

beside you...Or come in and carry you out.

Girlfriends, daughters, granddaughters,

daughters-in-law, sisters, sisters-in-law, Mothers,

Grandmothers, aunties, nieces, cousins, and extended

family, all bless our life!

The world wouldn't be the same without women, and

neither would I. When we began this adventure called

womanhood, we had no idea of the incredible joys or

sorrows that lay ahead. Nor did we know how much we

would need each other.

Every day, we need each other still. Pass this on

to all the women who help make your life meaningful.

I just did. Short and very sweet:

There are more than twenty angels in this world.

Ten are peacefully sleeping on clouds. Nine are

playing. And one is reading her email at this

moment.

Happy days!

VISIT 4K CREATIONS TODAY!
Bringing heritage, heart and home together through the
creation of elegant interiors and Africentric accessories!
www.4kcreations.biz
I have no choice but to exceed my own expectations!
Kim Sims

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A FANTASY OF LOVE APRIL 24

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Tue, 06 May 2008 08:34:32 -0700

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

Thursday, April 24, 2008

CONTACT INFORMATION

Josie M. Greene

804-475-1235

NU CHERTE PUBLISHING DEBUTS WITH NEW BOOK
BY LORETTA R. WALLS

A FANTASY OF LOVE APRIL 24

Original Urban Romance author Loretta R. Walls revealed the star of her third novel in her previous work Brittany, who made her mark changing one of the character’s destiny forever. Walls left fans anticipating who Tiffany Me’ Lisa Rivera was from the impression she left on Brittany Townsend’s life, A Fantasy of Love delivers the answers and then some.

It doesn’t take the reader long to place themselves inside the world of the rich and popular, but it’s how they endure the challenges that the young adults face that keep you enthralled. A Fantasy of Love (Nu Cherte Publishing, April 24, 2008; $12.66) pierces into the world most young adults dare to keep to themselves: loyalty, deceit, friendship, family ties and power plays to get what they desire.

Readers will instantly connect with Tiffany, a beautiful, popular and talented young lady that has goals and dreams to fulfill. Her current boyfriend and his arch enemy are determined to have her heart, but can they handle the fame that comes with the package?

Loretta says of Tiffany, “Tiffany’s world is very protected by her close group of friends, but within that realm is where the drama lies. She is my favorite character to write about to date…someone always wants something out of her.”

Walls is planning a book tour coordinated with her publishing company, Nu Cherte Publishing.

For more information on the tour and the book visit: www.nuchertepublishing.com

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Sweet Dreams by Nikkea Smithers

nobody@vox.com(CEO of EDC Creations) — Tue, 06 May 2008 06:36:27 -0700

Nikkea Smithers

http://www.ausetausarproductions.net

Sweet Dreams will be an excellent addition to your collection. I invite you to read the first chapter listed below. Also if you are in the Richmond Area remember to come celebrate with me at the book release party on May 24th at Caribbean Mingles sponsored by Protege Magazine. This is a free event, there will be poetry, music, a book signing and some other exciting guest.

Dream is a highschool student from Bridgeport , Connecticut who is traumatized when she is informed of the tragic suicide of her best friend. Feeling like she is alone in the world with an abusive mother and absent father, Dream almost comes to the resolution that her life is also not worth living...

Antonio is also in highschool but from Richmond, Virginia working two jobs to help his mother support his many brothers and sisters. Growing up in the projects, he is faced with a number of obstacles that will test his manhood.
When Dream and Antonio¢s worlds collide both of their lives change forever. . .but is it for the better or for the worse?

The following is the full first chapter of Sweet Dreams

Dream

"Little girl, you will never amount to anything. Not a single solitary thing. Your life is worthless you hear me! I don¢t even know why you keep waking up in the morning. Now understand this, when I say jump, you say how high, not why. You don¢t question me. I am your mother. Not your friend, not your sister, your mother. And what I say is law. Remember that if you don¢t remember anything else in life. Remember that Dream!" My mother spewed her darts of hatred in my direction. I had learned to block her hurtful words out when I knew that she was drunk. Her breath smelled immensely drowned in the precise scent of Hennessey.

Brown liquor, I never understood why she had this thing for brown liquor but from what I heard it could have been worse. It could have been light liquor that could have been her downfall. But light liquor wasn¢t her flavor, brown liquor was. I had heard that vodka was one of the worst of all liquors and should never divulged in heavy doses. To me the same could have been said about brown liquor, or even more so Hennessey.

When my mother went into her temper tantrums I was her instant target. She was bitter at the world but the world wasn¢t at home alone with us. We lived on the fourth floor of a ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Bridgeport high rise apartment building nick named the Greens. The hallways had the same pissy stench that reverberated in most project hallways. The floors were cold and hard like a prison cell and there was little space to get away from the constant rants of my mothers screams.

Every day that I had come to our apartment I was constantly reminded that I was never going to have a home. Not as long as I lived with my mother in the Greens. I had an address for the time being, but not a place where I could call home. The legendary song by the late Luther Vandross was never more true to me when it came to the place where I resided with my mother. An apartment was not a home with no one standing there to welcome me.

Sadly things had been this way for years. My mother had never accepted the fact that my father felt that she wasn¢t woman enough to command his attention at all times. He left when I was three and hadn¢t been back since. Therefore for thirteen years I had to live with mood swings from my mother and her constant alcoholism.

Trust, if there was another way that I could have provided for myself without having to succumb to the welfare system of the state of Connecticut I would have been out of there a long time ago. I suppose in some ways one could suggest that I was a subject of the State of Connecticut¢s welfare system through my mother, then respond what was the big deal? Well, that fact in itself was enough to turn my stomach away from being dependant on the state.

All my life I had been witness to my mother¢s lack of motivation. She used me for a check and free rent. Food stamps were our way of life not because she did not have another way, but because she was unmotivated to get a job. Instead she loved to hustle here and there, drinking and partying like she was the sixteen year old.

"Look at you, over there looking like your daddy. I should have aborted you when I got pregnant, but the only thing you are good for is a check, taxes and the damn dishes!"

Her words were hurtful but I continued to block them out of my mind. I started to sing to myself Mary J. Blidge¢s song "No More Drama". Only, for me the drama would never end, but the song gave me some hope that there would be a change soon coming.

I longed for school, and work. Those were the times that I could be away from my mother and could truly clear my mind from her mess. Unfortunately it was a Friday night and school was two days away. I had to work on Saturday but it would only be a short day at the hair salon. I was in the midst of thinking of what else I could do when my mother began talking her craziness.

The siren from the phone ringing pierced through the chaos of our home. "Get the phone little girl, it aint for nobody but you anyway. I¢m going to cut the thing off you know! Keep testing me which your smart little self."

I tried hard not to roll my eyes at her as I went to answer the phone, respecting her was hard to do which regardless of her actions was necessary because she was my mother in the end. "Dream?" A woman was half weeping on the other end of the line. I recognized her voice faintly.

"Ms. Dawkins?"

"Dream...." she wailed my name like it was causing her pain. My heart sank right then, I knew that if she was calling me then there was nothing that could have been good about the phone call.

"Yes ma¢am?" I wanted to comfort her, the pain in her voice was evident. She was my best friend Adrian¢s mother.

"My baby is gone!!!" She wept through the phone line. Now that line puzzled me because to my knowledge, Adrian and her mother had never been close and that was the main reason that Adrian and I were so tight. I questioned as to how Ms. Dawkins could be claiming such closeness now.

Her next words cemented me to the floor, I felt as though I would fall out from duress. "Ms. Dawkins what are you saying?"

"Adrian killed her self." She cried.

"What!!" That couldn¢t be! Adrian had been my only refuge for years. We had met in jr. high and were inseparable since then.

"She shot her self with David¢s gun, there¢s a letter here that she wrote to you and the police are asking you to come and get it. They won¢t let me read it because it¢s addressed to you. I should be able to read it, I am her mother!!!" she screamed into the phone.

In panic I spoke, "Okay, I¢m coming over give me about twenty minutes." I threw the phone on the cradle rushing to my room to grab my belongings and some change for the bus before running out the door.

My mother screamed behind me, "What¢s going on?" I left her question unanswered. I couldn¢t deal with her just then. I couldn¢t ask her for a ride to get there sooner because she didn¢t own a car. It wasn¢t uncommon in Bridgeport for people to go their lives without driving because the transit system was everywhere. Tears were streaming down my face like a free falling waterfall. My heart was beating against my chest so hard I could feel every pump.

There had to be a mistake, my best friend could not have been dead. No, this was not happening. My mind raced a million miles a minute. I frantically pushed the button at the elevator before I decided that I couldn¢t wait for it. Impatient I rushed to the stairwell jumping down the stairs taking them ten at a time. I was rushing recklessly needing only to get to where my best friend was.

When I finally got outside and let the fresh air meet my face, the coldness made me shiver and shake from head to toe. I couldn¢t afford to allow the cold to slow me down. The immense mounds of snow that was on either side of the sidewalk was not a hindrance either. Not when I had a determination on my heart.

Without consideration of the hard exterior I was trying to uphold, my tears invaded my eyes once again spilling across my face. My chest got tight again, I felt as though I was not going to be able to breathe, once again. I felt as though it might be me that might be next to die, once again.

The bus stop that was right outside of my apartment building was packed with people needing to get to destinations that did not concern me. Again, impatience crept up in my bones. The bus being nowhere in sight and Adrian¢s home on Iranistan Ave was not that far off.

I turned, starting to run as fast as I could through the snow and slush trying to get to her. I had never ran so fast in my life. I could have won an Olympic medal as swift as I was moving. I ran around corners and through alleys wishing that my legs were faster than they appeared.

Adrian couldn¢t have been dead, I thought, it was our sophomore year in high school. We had so much looking up for us. We had planned on going on a college tour that was sponsored by the Smart Start program in just two weeks. I needed my girl to go with me and help me make a move out of the hood. I needed my girl to help me have hope that there was a way out. We had gone through so much just to be approved to go on the trip.

All that year my mother had ranted about how she wasn¢t going to sign no papers to allow me to carry my ¢fast ass¢ down to no HBSU college tour. I begged and pleaded and eventually paid her one hundred dollars to allow me to go. My mother didn¢t break down until the money was in her hand. While some would consider the bribe to be a trifling road block in the way of my future, I was used to her behavior.

Every time my mother thought that I was doing something to better myself she lashed out at me. She had done everything in her will to keep me from doing better in life but I was going to make her eat her words when I made it.

Adrian could not be dead.

I didn¢t slow down until I finally got close to her street. It was as if the world had halted and desired to go slow motion. The evening air made me cringe a little but not much.

So many emergency vehicles were outside her home. An ambulance and several police cars were everywhere. I didn¢t feel myself moving closer to her home until I was right up on the fence that surrounded her home. The green siding seemed so familiar. Cats were prancing around her home as though they had no idea that a tragedy lay inside. I was a moment away from finding out that what I hoped had been a misunderstanding, was actually reality.

I recall constant flickers from CSI cameras capturing everything in the house. Wailing came from the kitchen where Adrian¢s mother was talking to two detectives. For some reason their compassion seemed insincere.

"Can I help you?" an officer finally said to me after I had made it all up and through the house.

I saw blood on the carpet, a gun on the floor and a chair in the middle of the living room. I looked from the scene to Ms. Dawkins and back. I just assumed that there had to be a mistake, but apparently not. I lost my best friend.

"Young lady, young lady, can I help you?"

"Ms. Dawkins called me." I said in a low whisper wondering where Adrian was. She wasn¢t in the chair. I wondered if Ms. Dawkins had come home from work and found her there, I had just talked to her that day. Only a few hours earlier at school, we talked about going on our trip. She sounded excited at the time. But in hind sight, I wondered if that was the truth. Sadly, I would never find out.

"Dream!" Ms. Dawkins howled my name making the two detectives look in my direction.

"Johnson, we will handle this." One of the detectives said motioning in my direction. "Dream, we¢ve been waiting for you. I thank you for coming as swift as you did."

"What is going on?" I was still in denial. I knew full and well what was going on but I couldn¢t believe it fully. No matter how much blood I had seen or the gun laying on the floor, not even Ms. Dawkins crying made me completely believe it.

"We¢d like to talk to you for a moment. First, I¢m very sorry for your loss." Ms. Dawkins glared at me upon the detectives words as though I didn¢t deserve them. Oh, I deserved them. "She left a suicide note but she expressly addressed that it be opened and read by you. Normally, and considering the circumstances we would have read it. But in light of the situation we wanted to honor her wishes. We need you to open it, read it and then we will need it back to record it as evidence. Once the case is closed we can return it to you if you would like it. I am certain that it will be relatively soon, normally these cases are open and shut but you will understand our need to hold on to the letter for a bit?"

The question he posed was more like a general statement than anything. He didn¢t really want to ask for my permission. He was just being polite. He could see the pain in my eyes as he held out the letter to me.

Ironically enough she had written it on stationary that had the saying ¢too blessed to be stressed¢ on it. The outside of the letter was addressed as precisely as the detective suggested. I was surprised that Ms. Dawkins hadn¢t opened it. I could understand the detectives requesting my presence but she had reasons to not want me there. In more ways then one she had verbalized her disdain for my relationship with Adrian. Ms. Dawkins knew she neglected her only child. Her major focus had been her boyfriend for sometime leaving Adrian to fend for herself in life. Therefore the only person in the world that shared her pain was me. The only way that Ms. Dawkins didn¢t open the letter before me was if she didn¢t see it. The detectives must have retrieved it at a later time.

I opened the envelope slowly being careful not to tear it too much. I unfolded the inner pages which were hand written. I didn¢t know whether they wanted me to read it aloud or not but everyone¢s eyes were on me so I felt compelled to do so.

Dream,

I love you so much. You are the sister that I always wanted and I am sorry that I have to do this to you. But I have to get out of this life. Death must be better than this. We have shared on many occasions our similar struggles and I know that more than anyone else, you would understand why I had to do this.

Please don¢t think any less of me. I will explain it all here, as much as I can. What I don¢t want to happen is you going through life not knowing why I did this. I had to do this. I know that we had plans to make it out the ¢port but I can¢t wait to get out. I mean everyday I hurt more and more.

I¢ve got a secret that I only told one other person in life. And when I told her she called me a liar. But this secret is one that I can no longer live with and I must end it all. I have to.

My mother¢s boyfriend has been molesting and raping me for more than two years now. And I just confirmed I am pregnant with his child. I can¢t birth a bastard child. He will deny it, my mother won¢t have me because when I told her that he was touching me she didn¢t believe me. She made me feel as though I had done something to bring this on to myself. That¢s not the case. Trust me it¢s not. I never once enjoyed what he was doing to me. I just didn¢t know where else to turn after my mother shot me down.

I didn¢t want this in life. I did nothing to make this man do what he has been doing to me. I hated coming home because of him and he told me no one would believe me so this is the only way that I could make everyone listen.

Hopefully they can test my babies dna and confirm that he is the father. I saw on t.v. they could do that and I hope they can so that they will believe me. I know he is because I was a virgin before him, I hate that man and I wish him hell with me for what he has done to me.

Dream, please remember the good times that we have had. Don¢t let this tear your memory of me from your thoughts. I want you to remember me and make me a promise that you will get out and live your life. Get out for both of us.

I hope God will forgive me for taking my life and I pray that I will see you again one day in heaven. I¢m so sorry if I¢ve disappointed you and for hiding this from you. But trust that I love you like a sister.

Adrian

"She¢s a liar! Even in death she is a liar!" Ms. Dawkins screamed jumping up from the table as though she wanted to attack me. Her actions confirmed Adrian¢s confession. Her mother was not defending her daughters honor, she preferred to uphold her no good man instead. "That girl done killed her self and she trying to blame my man, he aint never touch her."

"Ma¢am we need you to calm down." The detective pronounced.

"I will not! I will not sit here and let you all come in my home and assume my man was doing anything to her. She killed her self for some other reason. That is not true. Dream, give me that letter, I am going to burn it!"

I was certain that Ms. Dawkins must have had a stroke of insanity as there was no way in hell that I was going to give her a damn thing. The detectives, who were now emotionally confused about what I had read and Ms. Dawkins¢s actions, proceeded to restrain her.

"Ms. Dawkins, I¢m afraid that will not be an option. Where is your boyfriend we¢d like to ask him some questions."

"I don¢t know where he is but if I did I wouldn¢t tell you!" she replied.

"Ma¢am please tell us where he is."

"No! I can¢t believe you are pursuing this. Even in death the little whore lies!" Ms. Dawkins screamed translating her pain for the loss of her daughter to her pain in the soon to be loss of her boyfriend. I could not believe that she was defending him. Rather than taking up for her child who was now gone, she was defending a raggedy pedophile.

I stood there in silence, astonished that even after her daughter¢s death this woman would have no compassion in her heart. The tears that she had shed earlier seemed fake as they changed like a chameleon in front of our eyes, it was disgusting.

"Ma¢am we must pursue this. If what your daughter is stating in this letter is true we must look into the issue. And it will start with the autopsy where we will retrieve your daughter¢s baby for dna testing. Now it will be in your best interest to tell us now where this man is otherwise what will happen is a number of things. First I will personally look into everything about you and him. Then I will charge you will interfering with an investigation. Then I will make sure that someone is posted up twenty four hours in front of your door until this sick man decides he wants to come home. And trust lady when we lock him up, there won¢t be anything for you to remember him by because I will make sure to tell his new prison buddies that he likes little kids. So you choose lady, because you already chose death for your little girl who is the one that deserves your tears!" The detective exclaimed.

I imagined him thinking of Adrian as his own daughter and not understanding why her own mother was unable to sympathize with the young deceased girl. I cried for my best friend. Her mother was ill, she had to be. Adrian was gone.

The only thing that marked her presence to the world now was a vacant chair and a blood stained carpet. I hated life.

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