DP

“It’s Sunday—my grandparent’s favorite day of the week. To them, Sundays are good for three things: church, rest, and fried chicken from Piggly Wiggly.”
― McCaid Paul, Sweet Tea & Snap Peas

“It’s nearly nightfall, the vast evening sky as resplendent and intricate as that quilt hanging from the wooden knob on the side of Grandma’s dresser. This sky is like the work of a seamstress, sown tangerine-orange, raspberry-pink, and dappled with cream-white clouds for an extra touch, the finished product so lush and vibrant that I could gape at it for hours.”
― McCaid Paul, Sweet Tea & Snap Peas

“Dead River—the center of some story Grandpa used to tell around the campfire, back when I was foolish enough to believe anything. A tale of a whirlpool, snatching a man under while fishing in the middle of the current, snagging him on a root or treetop, never to be found again. It was the first time I knew the river to be murderous.
As we grow closer, the landscape of clay and muddy water fades to a sandy-white shoreline and waters the color of
black coffee, due to the influence of tannic acid from the leaves. Spanish moss hangs from nearly every branch, casting long, thick shadows across the sand.
The breeze calms to a mere breath of wind, the only movement some water bugs that resemble spiders, darting across the river’s surface. Gone are the splashes of the gar, and the occasional squawk of water fowl.
True to its name, the place is sinister. Dead.”
― McCaid Paul, Dead River

“Change is a part of life, son,” says Grandpa. “But
you want to know two things that never change?”
“Death and taxes?” Grandma asks.
“No,” Grandpa says. “Sweet tea and snap peas.”
― McCaid Paul, Sweet Tea & Snap Peas