the tables edge Sandra Boykin

ISBN:

Published: May 31st 2013

Kindle Edition

180 pages


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the tables edge  by  Sandra Boykin

the tables edge by Sandra Boykin
May 31st 2013 | Kindle Edition | PDF, EPUB, FB2, DjVu, AUDIO, mp3, RTF | 180 pages | ISBN: | 7.78 Mb

Sheltered as a child, Charlotte Allen found her comfort zone away from the turmoil of her two-story home in the warmth of her mothers kitchen- in her favorite hiding place, underneath the tables edge.At each turn she’s caught in a situationMoreSheltered as a child, Charlotte Allen found her comfort zone away from the turmoil of her two-story home in the warmth of her mothers kitchen- in her favorite hiding place, underneath the tables edge.At each turn she’s caught in a situation camouflaged by half-truths and deception.

As a result, she wears the masks and learns to perfect the art of silence and invisibility. She believes these defensive mechanisms will protect her against those who set out to destroy her innocence. ‘What cant be seen- cant be hurt’.Or so she thought.And then she meets Clinton Jacobson.Clinton becomes her high school sweetheart. Immersed in his love, Charlotte feels freed from the life that she had been force to live. And one day he does the unimaginable, he offers her his heart and his hand in marriage.Does Charlotte dare entrust her whole heart and soul to him.

Was Clinton the man of her dreams, or just the man she had dreamed of?Left with a choice to make, she wonders if her decision will be a life-changing transformation or just another hard-life transition...~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Table’s EDGE(Excerpt)It was the last day of high school. I began my daily walk down the gravel path to the pale green house, the house I lived in since I was told there was nowhere else to place me. I had too understand that I was sixteen at the time, and finding a placement home for a “troubled” teen was almost impossible, so I should consider myself lucky.

I wondered how often the social worker had given that same speech. Was it my fault that the world was being populated with so many unwanted children? Children that had children, that dont realize that those children don’t stay children...they grow up to become people. And sometimes they become the unwanted.When I reached the old house, I began my trained walk up the wooden stairs- a slack here and there was always missing so I had learned how to step just right to keep from slipping.

The porch was covered in cheap plastic folding chairs and tables, and at best you could find one that didn’t break when you sat down on it. The screen door hung of its hinge and flapped slightly against the warm spring breeze.--------I remember waking that morning seeing the crack in my bedroom door, the eerie sound of its opening would cloud my thoughts even in the day, as it did now.

Its size seemed to grow no matter how many dusty rags I pushed through it with my nail file, and nothing I used no longer filled the space. The long hallway that led to my bedroom was filled with boxes and old newspapers, which he had expertly learned to shift through in the dark without knocking anything over. And locking my door no longer worked, as he got hip to my tricks. Between the doorknob and frame I could still see where the crack remained, where the wood had been purposely chipped away.I pushed past my thoughts and what I was feeling and wore the mask that veiled my fears, and headed straight toward the kitchen.I figured her boyfriend Herbert “The Rat” must have found another hole to slither into because he had been gone for days.

I wasnt the one who missed him. Mrs. Thompson did. Maybe that was the reason for her attitude, but then again maybe not.I stood there a moment, wondering why he chose my bedroom door to slither under at night. Then I saw him, he was walking toward the house from the shed with a beer in his hand, so I jumped up and started my daily routine of rat-proofing my room.The light of the moon rose and I could smell him before he crept into my room. He started undressing himself until there was nothing left between him and me but the sheets.



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