by Do South | May 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”fiction: Marla Cantrell”][/title] The rock fell. That was all Cookie Whittington knew. It fell from a bridge to the silver Buick below. The Buick that held her Vernon. He was coming to get her. She had called. Distraught. Over the new...
by Do South | Apr 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”words: Marla Cantrell”][/title] In the summer of my twenty-second year, just as the corn and tomatoes were coming to life, a man found his way to me. He was driving a gold and brown Ford LTD. He was wearing polyester pants the color of...
