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Jan Fink
Goodreads Author
Born
in Tuscaloosa, The United States
December 05, 1949
Website
Genre
Member Since
November 2014
URL
https://www.goodreads.com/jan_fink
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Licking The Salt Block
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Tales from a Strange Southern Lady
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published
2014
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3 editions
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Ich liebe dich mehr als du denkst: Eine herzerwärmende Gute-Nacht-Geschichte für Kinder
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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.
“I can’t tell you what I look like. I look in the mirror and see
nothing but space. Space reflecting space, that’s what the
mirror shows. It figures because Grandmamma said I was
nothing but dirt. Dirt under her feet she’d say. Dirt she needed
to keep kicking out of the way. Grandmamma said I wasn’t
sweeping-up kind of dirt; I was the kind of dirt you needed to
kick and scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”
― Tales from a Strange Southern Lady
nothing but space. Space reflecting space, that’s what the
mirror shows. It figures because Grandmamma said I was
nothing but dirt. Dirt under her feet she’d say. Dirt she needed
to keep kicking out of the way. Grandmamma said I wasn’t
sweeping-up kind of dirt; I was the kind of dirt you needed to
kick and scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”
― Tales from a Strange Southern Lady
“We entered the grove, and a few yards in, the trees opened to another clearing. In the center was a Sunbeam bread truck, the tires missing, mounted on cinder blocks. It had to have been from the 50s. Little Miss Sunbeam, blond curls framing her face, looking down from the side of the truck with one blue eye. The other missing, replaced by a large spot of rust. Innocent and poised, forever taking a bite out of a piece of buttered white bread. The slogan above her head, Reach for Sunbeam! ENERGY-PACKED! Under Miss Sunbeam the truck was lined and stacked head high with crosses of all sizes, the artificial flowers attached to them faded by the sun. I realized they were roadside crosses, many I recognized that were placed at accident scenes along Death Road and disappeared shortly after. An eighteen-foot four-by-four utility pole and meter leaned dangerously inward toward the truck, anchored by nothing but mud and rocks after the rain. A deep cast iron pot sat a few feet in front of the truck surrounded by ashes, bits of charred wood and odd shaped tree stumps.”
― Tales from a Strange Southern Lady
― Tales from a Strange Southern Lady
“With spring came heavy rain. It was in the muck and mud of six days of downpour while milking Li’l Belle that I heard him approach. I waited and listened to the rain hitting the tin roof of the lean-to and the sound of his boots. With each step his boots made an air-sucking sound as he pulled them free of the mud. I counted the sound of his footsteps one by one ’til I knew he was a few yards away. Only then did I rise from the milking stool and turn to him. He stood there outside smiling and pulled one boot free of the mud, his arms outstretched, balancing himself like a tightrope walker.
“Hey, Larraine. Look what you made me do. Made me ruin my best shirt and good pair of boots trying to sneak up on you. I just want to ask you some questions. You know what I’m talking about, girl? That little queer, Johnny Redboots?”
He took off his shirt, held it up, attempted to wring the rainwater from it then laughed and threw it in the mud near the lean-to. I stood quiet with one hand on the rope strap of the shotgun and the other hand resting on Li’l Belle’s back. Li’l Belle moved from side to side, restless and wanting free of the lean-to.”
― Licking The Salt Block
“Hey, Larraine. Look what you made me do. Made me ruin my best shirt and good pair of boots trying to sneak up on you. I just want to ask you some questions. You know what I’m talking about, girl? That little queer, Johnny Redboots?”
He took off his shirt, held it up, attempted to wring the rainwater from it then laughed and threw it in the mud near the lean-to. I stood quiet with one hand on the rope strap of the shotgun and the other hand resting on Li’l Belle’s back. Li’l Belle moved from side to side, restless and wanting free of the lean-to.”
― Licking The Salt Block
“I was glad there was another me. I had a better chance of surviving childhood. The other me inside my head shared the fear and anxiety and kept me in check. Without the soft voice constantly reminding me of who of us would be dead, I am sure I could have become a natural-born killer. When other girls’ thoughts were of new dresses and summer sandals, I thought about murder and already had a list. Daddy and the blue devils were at the top of it.”
― Licking The Salt Block
― Licking The Salt Block
“With spring came heavy rain. It was in the muck and mud of six days of downpour while milking Li’l Belle that I heard him approach. I waited and listened to the rain hitting the tin roof of the lean-to and the sound of his boots. With each step his boots made an air-sucking sound as he pulled them free of the mud. I counted the sound of his footsteps one by one ’til I knew he was a few yards away. Only then did I rise from the milking stool and turn to him. He stood there outside smiling and pulled one boot free of the mud, his arms outstretched, balancing himself like a tightrope walker.
“Hey, Larraine. Look what you made me do. Made me ruin my best shirt and good pair of boots trying to sneak up on you. I just want to ask you some questions. You know what I’m talking about, girl? That little queer, Johnny Redboots?”
He took off his shirt, held it up, attempted to wring the rainwater from it then laughed and threw it in the mud near the lean-to. I stood quiet with one hand on the rope strap of the shotgun and the other hand resting on Li’l Belle’s back. Li’l Belle moved from side to side, restless and wanting free of the lean-to.”
― Licking The Salt Block
“Hey, Larraine. Look what you made me do. Made me ruin my best shirt and good pair of boots trying to sneak up on you. I just want to ask you some questions. You know what I’m talking about, girl? That little queer, Johnny Redboots?”
He took off his shirt, held it up, attempted to wring the rainwater from it then laughed and threw it in the mud near the lean-to. I stood quiet with one hand on the rope strap of the shotgun and the other hand resting on Li’l Belle’s back. Li’l Belle moved from side to side, restless and wanting free of the lean-to.”
― Licking The Salt Block
“I can’t tell you what I look like. I look in the mirror and see
nothing but space. Space reflecting space, that’s what the
mirror shows. It figures because Grandmamma said I was
nothing but dirt. Dirt under her feet she’d say. Dirt she needed
to keep kicking out of the way. Grandmamma said I wasn’t
sweeping-up kind of dirt; I was the kind of dirt you needed to
kick and scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”
― Tales from a Strange Southern Lady
nothing but space. Space reflecting space, that’s what the
mirror shows. It figures because Grandmamma said I was
nothing but dirt. Dirt under her feet she’d say. Dirt she needed
to keep kicking out of the way. Grandmamma said I wasn’t
sweeping-up kind of dirt; I was the kind of dirt you needed to
kick and scrape off the bottom of your shoes.”
― Tales from a Strange Southern Lady
