by Do South | Sep 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”words: Marla Cantrell”][/title] The only reason my oldest daughter Reba Fay moved me in with her was because that wet-behind-the-ears doctor at the emergency room said I’d be dead by spring. I know it’s true. I overheard Reba Fay talking...
by Do South | Aug 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”fiction: Marla Cantrell”][/title] Libby Gallus, at fifteen, has had it. What happened is this: her mama has turned in to somebody entirely different. Her Grandma Iola, who lives less than a quarter mile away in a house with a tin roof,...
by Do South | Jul 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”fiction: Marla Cantrell”][/title] I was born on a day so hot shingles melted on rooftops, all across town. My mama is telling me this, has told me this a hundred times, and is telling me again because the story shows her at her most...
by Do South | Jun 1, 2015 | Southern Lit
[title subtitle=”fiction: Marla Cantrell”][/title] I can see Ira from our bedroom window. He is out in the corn patch a few yards away, and it’s past midnight. He gets off work at the feed mill at ten, and it takes him twenty-five minutes to drive to...
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...
