Passing for White
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My mother was a quadroon. It’s not a term that is used much nowadays, but it refers to a person, and usually, a woman, who is only one quarter negro.

She had dreamed of a ballroom with the silver sphere above causing a spectacular display of color along the wall. Everyone was dressed to play off the brilliance of that spectrum so that in the darkness they were an illuminated display of art. Even their faces, obscured by masks, sparkled in the low light. It was best to be hidden from sight, as her parents did not approve of her choice.

Alton is a frustrated man. The world isn’t fair and there doesn’t seem to be much he can do about it.

CHAPTER 8
“Debbie?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

She was in tears; I could hear it in her voice.

“It’s Sam, love. And Carl. I… I don’t want to do this over the phone. They’re both in hospital. Can you come up to the clubhouse?”

“You’ve got me really worried, Rosie. On my way”

Terri and Jessica get the first few whiffs of the battle they will have to face.

Chapter 9

Wendy and I were playing another couple of models in a game of beach volleyball. With our height we were the current champions but this game was getting too close for comfort.

The Letters - Chapter 1

Chapter 1

It had been a long time since Gregory had been to the home of his grandfather.

I know. Lots of stories start this way, but this is somewhat different.

Let’s resume.

Greg took the key out of his pocket and looked around. He turned a complete circle as he surveyed the property. There was nothing there except weeds. The mailbox was destroyed entirely. It appeared as though someone had driven by with a baseball bat and smashed it at high speed. The post still stood, although the top was jagged, but the mailbox was nowhere to be seen. He unlocked the door and entered the house.

On his twenty-first birthday, he had gained ownership, which was strange. He hardly knew his grandfather. He would have thought that someone else might have been willed the home, or the old man could have sold it. It should have paid off all debts, but strangely, he was the only beneficiary. There didn't seem to be any bank holding a mortgage, or unpaid taxes. He wasn’t going to argue.

In a world were there has been no rape, sexual assault or harassment in over 100 yrs. Each 16 year old child gets a letter that starts like this:

Seeing my brother hiding down in the back of the Pickup phased me for a moment but it was only a moment. It would not do to show any favouritism with that almost ever present thorn in my thumb, my brother Walt.

I shook my head before saying,
“Out you get Walt. You know the drill!”

Walt slowly got out of the truck and sat on the floor. I didn’t need to tell him to keep his legs straight but crossed below the knee.

“Boss, shall I get some more cuffs from my vehicle?”

"Tommy, it's me" I said with a smile enveloping my face.

"Ben! Tommy!" I heard Mikey yell to my right before full sprinting to hug our two teammates.

"Mikey! Is that really you? Are you really here?" Ben asked with tears in his eyes as the two boys broke apart.

"It's me. After the wave, we didn't know what happened to you two" he replied as he hugged the other boy. I closed the gap.

"What about everyone else?" Tommy asked with urgency.

"Everyone from our life boat is here too. Safe. But we don't know where the other boats washed up"

“We have to get you a phone, and I guess we should talk about allowance.”

“What did you give Celine?” I asked.

He laughed. “Celine was a thief,” he replied. “You don’t need to give money to a thief.”