The Page Flippers

           Hi everyone! This is part two of chapter one of my novel that I'm currently editing. For part 1, head to my blog and check out the writing tag! You can even find out more about the characters on my Instagram account, @thepageflippers.  I hope you enjoy!      The foster parent, Levi, had looked across the room at Nix, sitting on the couch with both arms wrapped around his book bag and a suitcase at his feet. Nix can imagine exactly what he had seen. A teenage boy with long, stick straight hair hanging into his eyes. Skinny arms, legs, body. Bruises around his cheekbone, slouched over. He had looked back from underneath his hair to see what the man looked like. Levi had the typical look of any all-American football player. Blonde hair, blue eyes and built like a Roman statue. Nix hadn’t been able to take much else in. The air smelled like mint, maybe, and the floor was carpeted, so Nix hadn’t been able to hear when...

    Today, the fourth of July in the U.S.A, is our independence day. Normally my family would pack a cooler of food, grab a few picnic blankets and head to our local firework show with the other American citizens in our city. We would be celebrating the birth of a country that did what no other country had done. It built a democracy from scratch, with no previous foundation other than a few colonies built up from British rule. Independence Day 2020 is looking very different. Most families are staying at home, I'm going to work, and the news is dominated by people who seem to want to tear our country apart. It's hard to be joyful over this day when I see people who are citizens so against the United States.    Many of the debates circulating the media are concerned with the coming election and the treatment of minorities in the past and present. Yesterday, I saw a post that claimed no Latina/o person could possibly be happy with our country and its leader. Well, here I am, a La...

Hi everyone! So I've decided to share a little piece of my novel every month as a way to share it and also motivate my self to finish editing it! This will be alongside my regular content. Here's the first part of chapter 1 of my novel, If It Wasn't a Dream, the story of Nix Blanco, a boy who returns to a town from his childhood to live with a foster family who reminds him life can be a reality, not just a dream. I hope you enjoy! His feet are still bare, the cold cement of the front steps digging into his heels as he steps onto it. The whispered words from the social worker and the harsh yells of his mother float in and out of the almost closed door.He stares at the brown blades of dead grass on the front lawn, wondering if they’ll want him to put on shoes. Probably. The thought is bland and empty, white noise his brain is producing to block everything else out. “Nix Blanco, your things.” the social worker steps out with two bags, a kind faced man with a bit of hair st...

         This Sunday, my church opened it's doors for the first time in 3 months. Granted, those doors were opened by sanitized wipes and were left open the whole morning to avoid multiple hands touching and exchanging germs on it. But it opened. We were together again, standing in our sanctuary, singing praises to the God who made it possible for all of us to be together even in the aftermath of the Covid-19 pandemic. It was weird in some ways to be back. I had a mask on until I took my seat, and upon seeing my church friends we had to restrain from hugging each other. My seat was 6 ft from the rows in front of, behind and to the sides of mine, and we skipped our morning greeting time. So in a way, it did not feel like church.    Until my pastor opened up his Bible and instructed us to do the same.       Church had felt strange the whole morning. But the minute I got my notebook out and began to listen to his preaching, the Word of...

         Earlier this week, I was tapping through my Instagram stories, which have been filled with #blacklivesmatter and other tags and information relating to the recent events. Now and then, someone will post about police reform. But then I saw one shared post that stopped me in my tracks. The red words were in bold at the top. "Abolish the Police?". Part of me gaped. The other half simply sighed, already used to the radical thoughts that have recently been all over the media. This one, however, bordered near anarchist thought. I clicked on the post to read it. After all, knowing the points of other beliefs is always to our advantage. The post went on to explain how the police should be defunded and dismantled, what its replacement should be, and why. The thinking behind it was simple. Humankind is inherently good,  kind and can take care of itself with no boundaries.      Sadly my friends, this kind of thinking is wrong. Humans are not i...

     The news kept blaring tragedy at me yesterday. From my phone, computer, TV, more images of destruction and calamity filled my day. By the time night fell, I was feeling suffocated by it all. By my inability to do anything to help. I cannot get rid of racism. I cannot stop the rioting and looting. I cannot bring all those lost back and I cannot control the actions our government takes.       So I jumped in the shower in an attempt to clear my head. As I got ready for bed, I silently prayed to God, "Lord, what am I supposed to do?" Silence. It wasn't like I expected an answer out loud but I guess I wished for one. I started mulling the question over in my head, wondering what He would say if He did answer out loud. Eventually I came to a conclusion. Love and leave the rest to me.       I don't mean that to sound like He wouldn't want me to speak out against injustice or against destruction. But we are simply human and a large pa...

At first, I didn’t know what to say. The articles were horrifying. The video was stomach churning. I didn’t even know how to process it. Justice was necessary. Justice is necessary, and I’m not even sure how it hasn’t been fully executed yet. But that isn’t what I’m writing about today. The murder of George Floyd was a tragedy and should never have happened. That officer had eight minutes to make the right choice, and he made the wrong one up until the very end. Him and the other officers who were there are all deserving of justice.  But that isn’t what’s happening now.  I am aware of how depraved of our world is. I am aware it is a fallen world. I guess I wasn’t as aware as I thought I was, though, because I never would have dreamt this up. The protests started in Minneapolis. It made sense. A man had died unjustly and his killer needed to be arrested. But then the protests became riots, and shots began to be fired. The riots spread to other cities- ...