Under the House

By: Adriel Morton

 

Blood stained Mama’s good hand towel in the kitchen as I tried to keep my left ring finger from falling off. Well, maybe not falling off, but it was cut so deep I could have lost my arm for all I knew. I had been underneath the house in my hiding spot—that’s where I read his letters— and I mashed my finger in between a brick and a bit of siding.