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“Worryin’ is like sitting in a rockin’ chair. It don’t get you no further down the road.”
― Sweet Tea & Snap Peas
― Sweet Tea & Snap Peas
“The river speaks a language, something one isn’t born knowing but has to learn. I learned it from my dad. Some of it is wisdom, some of it skill. Some of it is the quirks and tendencies of a natural beast—the ebb and flow, the up and down, the flood draining down to a trickle. It’s all part of the river’s story, which it’s always willing to tell.”
― Dead River
― Dead River
“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.”
― Sweet Tea & Snap Peas
― Sweet Tea & Snap Peas
“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.”
― Sweet Tea & Snap Peas
― 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.”
― Dead River
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.”
― Dead River
DP’s 2024 Year in Books
Take a look at DP’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by DP
Lists liked by DP
