Scarlet Robe Creations

In the book 'Afternoons with Mister D', there is a chapter simply titled 'Nam, in this story within a story, the reader is introduced to a man named Albert Hobbs.  Albert is man full of hatred for those not like him, especially when it comes to skin color. The story below is written from Albert's perspective. And as always, 'Afternoons With Mister D' is available on Amazon.com Afternoons With Mister D He lies on his back, in the mud.   Overhead, the overcast sky looks down on him as he slowly inhales, taking one more breath.   Each time he fills his lungs, and then lets it out, he wonders if it will be the last. The explosions are deafening.   It matters little.   He is on the brink of moving beyond all of this, this war that is not a war. He has come to these jungles, because it is what his father would have done, and his grandfather.   The men in his family fought for their country.   He is no different.   God, family, country, apple pie, an...

This story includes a couple characters from 'Afternoons With Mister D'. Monica, a nurse from the convalescent home, and Lloyd, her pianist fiancé. Afternoons With Mister D He looked around the wallpapered room.  The pattern was dated, like something his own grandmother would have had on her walls.   The whole idea of papering walls seemed ancient.   Still, he liked the room, as it was.   The oldness made him feel comfortable. He’d been here before, with Monica.  She was his girlfriend and fiancé then.  Now she was his wife, and this was the living room of her grandmother’s house. This was the first time Lloyd had ever come here alone.  On his first visit, with Monica holding his hand in hers, he felt scrutinized.  He knew he didn’t belong.  He and Monica, theirs were two worlds with conflicting histories. The coffee table in front of him, which might have pre-dated his parents, was decorated with matching tea cups, a bouquet of fresh c...

Mourning fills this heart when hatred rears a head of ugliness. What race is not vulnerable to those who see only color?   Which pigment is purity, which is evil? We are the same in muscle, blood and bone. Blended hues on a tapestry of love. Mourning is a new day of life. The vile taste of every word spoken with weapons of hatred. My color is your color, red, blue, black, white, or brown. His color is our color, and with his head bowed from the cross He mourns for a broken world. copyright 2024 - Donald P James Jr https://www.amazon.com/stores/Donald-P.-James-Jr./author