In southern soil lay the seeds of hatred and deceit. The trees that grow casts broad dark shadows of despair. They cover the blood of many unsuspecting victims. Their roots grow shallow in red dirt, thinly veiled by manicured green grass. The scene is alluring and confers a false sense of serenity and a distinct illusion of security. A hard rain can unearth and tumble a tree. Don't be a victim. Be suspect. Be like a hard rain.
CHAPTER ONE
Wisps of warm air carried a soft, alluring voice gently across my shoulder, up my neck and into my ear. "Where's yo' baby?" the voice asked as it traveled down into my eardrum and touched me like the light tickle of a feather. "Where's yo' baby?" the feathery light voice repeated?
"What? What? Where's my, where's my baby? I asked from a depth of a sleep that would not release me.
I felt a slight pinch on the bridge of my nose and the slightest bit of pressure under my chin that prevented my mouth from opening. I shook my head and my mouth opened more suddenly than expected, taking in a deep swallow of air into the farthermost part of my lungs.
Within seconds my breathing returned to normal. Still, sleep had not released me. Instead, a cloak of fear pervaded me.
Another faint voice whispered something 'bout my baby but this time the tone was harsh and sinister and it made me shake inside. Water poured out of the pores of my skin like unrelenting rain in a torrent storm until my bed was wet and cold. My body shook involuntarily. The shaking was extreme, hard and violent.
Where's yo' baby???? Where IS my baby...was the stabbing and sobering thought that cut through my heart as I jerked awake.
Even though my eyes were open I could not see a thing. The room was black. I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled as I rose to sit upright in the middle of the bed. I heard it again...the light voice... "Where's yo baby?"
Oh, my God, where is my baby? With a prayer caught between my faith and my fear I closed my eyes and gently patted my right hand over to the edge of the bed. Bereft of hope, my fear-stricken, rigid body slumped like a time-enhanced withering flower. Paralyzed by terror that pervaded me and the guilt of my plausible neglect, I sat quietly listening for any sign of life from my newborn baby boy. I tried desperately to calm my heartbeat and breathing so that I could listen harder to the quiet timbre of the room. In one excruciating moment I thought I heard someone breathe next to me. Then I heard it at the foot of the bed. In the next moment I was hearing it over by the door. I scooted to the edge of the bed and stood slowly.
Disparaging moans and cries filled the room. The cries were so foreign and distressing they sounded like a wounded animal. In a moment of clarity, I realized the cries were my own. I knew they were my soul's expression and release from the torment that roiled inside of me. I opened my mouth to speak but unintelligible desperation lurched out in decibels so loud that it made the glass pitcher rumble and teeter on the edge of the dresser and the thin glass plate on the nightstand rattle before it fell and shattered.
"Where's yo' baby?" the soft voice asked.
The voice was so light and evasive, I wasn't sure I was actually hearing a voice at all. "Is someone here?" My words quivered as I spoke.
"Where's yo' baby?" The feathery light voice asked in an even lighter voice.
It's my conscious gnawing at me. My son is in his bedroom... where else? The temples on the sides of my head began to pulsate. I could hear the blood rush back and forth through the veins that ran from my eyes to my ears and down the back of my head. Every few seconds I felt the pounding of my heart against my chest wall. Something very light touched me on the back of my neck and I just about jumped out of my skin and lost my mind!
