Hear Our Cry

Crying

South Central 2015

I sat across from my grandmother Zola in her living room. She slowly stirred her tea as we just sat there staring at each other, I awkwardly cleared my throat.

"No, I don't worship the devil." She said reading my mind, somehow she did that, I'd think something and she'd answer me.

"I-I..Uh" I stumbled as she shook her head. Her long hair laid bone flat reaching her waist she had jet black hair like the wings of a raven with strips of gray in it showing her widsom she had beads in some braided parts of her hair with some having shark teeth.

"I can read ya mind, and yes I know about Greg..doing what..he's done." She said strained, her voice seemed to break like her heart. "Does Viv know?" She glared raising her eyebrow. I shook my head no.

"You need to tell her." I shook my head no vigorously. She widened her eyes looking at me like I lost my mind.

"You can't keep dat from her, you and your mother need to leave there." I just stared at her. "I can't read her, since she left her body's signals have been cut." I continued to stare.

"When you're lost or uninterested you stare, I know you're not listening." She said lowly while taking a sip of her tea. I cleared my throat and looked around.

"In the restaurant you called my baby Quincy." She nodded doing a quick glance at my stomach.

"Why?"

"Quincy is our family savior, he must've knew you would be shot, if Quincy wasn't in you to protect you, you'd be dead." I looked at her with a quizzed look, I never told her I got shot, so maybe she did know what she was talking about.

"Yes I know what I'm talking about gyal." She said irritability. I shrunk in my seat.

"He's saved all our lives at least once." She said stirring her tea slowly, I started at her spoon.

Jamaica 1775

"Please don't hang my son!" The mother gripped onto the masters pants leg crying and begging. He pushed her off and kicked her while hoisting the rope over the tree, she cried reaching for her son's hand while he screamed for his mother, their fingertips touched for a second before they were ripped apart.

Quincy stood to the side in the woods dressed in a long dark cloak with his bloody machete in his big hand, the head of the mistress in his other.

The rope went around the boy's neck. Quincy's son was to be hung, he knew where his father ran off to, he just wouldn't tell them. As his son placed foot onto the stool Quincy made his swift two steps from the woods. The dog's growled at him and the master turned around.