Archive for November, 2009

Thirteen Year Old – Joel Knox

 

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‘It happened before I was born,’ said Idabel, as if this explained everything. She turned off the path into an area deep with last winter’s leaves: a skunk skittered in the distance, and Henry boomed forward. ‘This Toby, you see, she was a nigger baby, and her mama worked for old Mrs Skully like Zoo does now. She was Jesus Fever’s wife, and Toby was their baby. Old Mrs Skully had a big fine Persian cat, and one day when Toby was asleep the cat sneaked in and put its mouth against Toby’s mouth and sucked away all her breath.’

Joel said he didn’t believe it; but if it was true, it was certainly the most horrible tale he’d ever heard. ‘I didn’t know Jesus Fever had ever been married.’

‘There’s lots you don’t know. All kinds of strange things…mostly they happened before we were born: that makes them seem more real.’

Before birth; yes, what time was it then? A time like now, and when they were dead, it would be still like now: these trees, that sky, this earth, those acorn seeds, sun and wind, all the same, while they, with dust-turned hearts, change only. Now at thirteen Joel was nearer a knowledge of death than in any year to come: a flower was blooming inside him, and soon, when all tight leaves unfurled, when the noon of youth burned whitest, he would turn and look, as others had, for the opening of another door…

 Truman Capote, Other Voices, Other Rooms

Published in: 13 Years Old | on November 28th, 2009 | No Comments »

Thirteen Year Old – Mick Kelly

 

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They started out to walk around the block. In the long dress she still felt very ritzy. ‘Look yonder at Mick Kelly!’ one of the kids in the dark hollered. ‘Look at her!’ She just walked on like she hadn’t heard, but it was that Spareribs, and some day soon she would catch him. She and Harry walked fast along the dark sidewalk, and when they came to the end of the street they turned down another block.

‘How old are you now, Mick – thirteen?’

‘Going on fourteen.’

She knew what he was thinking. It used to worry her all the time. Five feet six inches tall and a hundred and three pounds, and she was only thirteen. Every kid at the party was a runt beside her, except Harry, who was only a couple of inches shorter. No boy wanted to prom with a girl so much taller than him. But maybe cigarettes would help stunt the rest of her growth.

Carson McCullers, The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

Published in: 13 Years Old | on November 28th, 2009 | No Comments »