Blurb Book

Alabama

"No one listens to me here," she whined, a telephone sitting in her lap as she looked out the window of her pale blue room.

"Remember why you came and don't let it get to you, Connie," the woman on the other end of the line said, her voice made gravelly by the miles separating them.

"That's what I've been told.  'They all wahm up lata, hunny,'" Connie said, mimicking what she had been told several times that day.  "Ive been here for less than a day and I'm already 'hunny.'"

The woman chuckled.  "Who said that?"

"Uncle Hubert," Connie admitted reluctantly.  At the moment he was sitting on the porch, enjoying his humid August evening. 

"That sounds like him.  You already talked to your father.  How about you get off the phone and go talk to your uncle.  I'll bet he's outside right now,"

"Alright, bye Momma.  I'll call you tomorrow too," Connie promised.

"Bye Connie, I love you."

"I love you too," Connie said, waiting until her mother placed the phone on the receiver before hanging up.

She placed the phone on her desk, in between the black-and-white photograph of her parents and her typewriter, still in its case.  Despite having only arrived late the previous night, most of Connie's things were already put away as though she had lived there for years instead of hours.  The dark standing wardrobe already held almost all of Connie's dresses, with their corresponding shoes.  The only thing that looked out of place were the two leather suitcases in the corner of the room.  One was empty but the other, more battered, one still held things from the long trip.

Finally, she left her room, securing the door behind her, and went downstairs to find her uncle. 

"Hey theah, Connie," a dark man said from a wicker lawn chair. 

"Hello Uncle," Connie replied politely.

"How was thayat cawl wi' ya'r momma?" the woman next to him asked. 

"It went well.  She's doing alright but is concerned for me.  I was the only at home after my sister moved out," Connie explained.  Over the years, she had called her Aunt Lorena and Uncle Hubert many times but they had never been close before this.

"What ah don't geyat is wha ya go by Connie wen your full na-me be so beautiful, Constance," Aunt Lorena said softly.

"Quit botherin' tha girl.  She only 'rived hera yestawday night.  Sweet teah?" Uncle Hubert said.

Connie took the glass out of politeness.  She had never tried sweet tea before but thought it would be rude to refuse.  One sip assured that it was sweeter than most cakes.  No wonder Aunt Lorena was not as skinny as she should be.

Connie sat in the only other chair on the porch.  They all faced the west in a crooked line watching the sun set.

~*~*~*~

Alright, I though this one would be fun.  I get to work with accents (sorry if it's hard to understand, it's hard to write as well), stereotypes and do historical fiction but not the ancient type.  I'm not sure if I'll run with this one or not, it is not something I'm familiar with because it is a black family in Alambama (maybe Louisiana, I might change it so Connie can go to Marti Gras).  Connie originally comes from a well-to-do family and is writing a paper about culture clash.  Anyway, I know it's not long but I don't know what else to add right now.  Bye!