Share | Narrative Magazine

From this page you can share The Blessing to a social bookmarking site or email a link to the page.

Social Web	E-mail
Delicious Digg StumbleUpon Propeller Reddit Magnoliacom Newsvine Furl Facebook Google Yahoo Technorati Icerocket	Thank you for spreading the word about Narrative Magazine. NOTE: We only request your email address so that the person you are recommending the page to knows that you wanted them to see it, and that it is not junk mail. We do not capture any email address. Your Email: * Your Name: * Send To: * Enter multiple addresses on separate lines or separate them with commas. You can only email up to 10 recipients You are going to email the following: Message Subject: (Your Name) has forwarded a page from Narrative Magazine Message Body: (Your Name) thought you would enjoy this story from Narrative Magazine. Your Personal Message: *
The Blessing A Story by Montana Ray It was practical to share a ride home with Saad; we lived close enough, and Saad didn’t have enough money to get himself even halfway back. His silence made me nervous, and I pressed myself against the other side of the backseat and looked out the window. In this district, no electricity on Wednesdays, we were surrounded by blackness; an occasional cloud of red dust billowed in the headlights. The back of a woman appeared, patterned fruit in bold colors and a basin of corn on her head. I craned my neck to examine her fingerprint face before she receded again into darkness. “My Maria,” Saad sighed and pinched my cheek. Smiling, I turned to him, even though Maria was his mother’s name, and Marie was mine, and vowels were important to me. The special hire sputtered uphill, but with Saad next to me the jerking seemed funny and safe. Had David left me with him at Rip’s studio as some kind of test? Please log in to view or print the full story online or in PDF format. If you are new to Narrative, signing up is FREE and easy. Login or register to post comments

Social Web

E-mail

The Blessing

A Story

It was practical to share a ride home with Saad; we lived close enough, and Saad didn’t have enough money to get himself even halfway back. His silence made me nervous, and I pressed myself against the other side of the backseat and looked out the window. In this district, no electricity on Wednesdays, we were surrounded by blackness; an occasional cloud of red dust billowed in the headlights. The back of a woman appeared, patterned fruit in bold colors and a basin of corn on her head. I craned my neck to examine her fingerprint face before she receded again into darkness.

“My Maria,” Saad sighed and pinched my cheek. Smiling, I turned to him, even though Maria was his mother’s name, and Marie was mine, and vowels were important to me. The special hire sputtered uphill, but with Saad next to me the jerking seemed funny and safe. Had David left me with him at Rip’s studio as some kind of test?

Please log in to view or print the full story online or in PDF format.
If you are new to Narrative, signing up is FREE and easy.