Paperback: 314 pages
Publisher: L.B. Publishing (March 3, 2014)
ISBN-10: 0984896759
ISBN-13: 978-0984896752
Book Title: Blue Butterfly
Genre: Christian Fiction, Age Group 18+
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Email: info@marianlthomas.com
Amazon Author Page: http://amzn.to/1kO44gv
From Chapter One
They say on the night that I was born June 30, 1969the fringes of the moon could be seen peeking out through the thin layers of the clouds. They say that the rain had done come down so hard it felt like something was tearing away at your soul, drop by drop. They say my mama was laying in the birthing room screaming because I was ripping her life away from her. They say that the doctors wanted to cut away at her tummy, but she had done plain-out refused. She was an ebullient woman, with the heart of an unbreakable but beautiful stallion.
I ain't never seen the woman with eyes so blue they felt like they could reach down into the pit of your core and tell you about yourself. I ain't never seen the warmth of her smile or the way she could soothe my daddy with her kind-hearted words. People talk under their breath about her. Talk about how long her silky blond hair was or how thin and soft her frame was. I do alls I can when I hear them whispering about the woman who gave her life so I could dance in the rain on a hot summer day.
Just before she took her last breath they say that she stared into my eyes and smiled because I done come into the world with what she thought was the better part of her. The one feature that my daddy loved the most.
She was the one who placed the weight of my name upon me. Precious Blue Johnson, but everyone around here in Lutts County, Georgia, fixed my name at Precious.
My dear, sweet Daddy is a tall, well-stocked-around-the-tummy man. I heard that back in his heyday he sported a nicely trimmed frame of six feet, two inches. That his hair used to be slicked back so perfectly there wasn't a black woman in Lutts County that wasn't dying to give it a coat or two of sweet brown sugar with the very tips of their hard-worked fingers.
His shoulders hang now sometimes, but that wasn't always the case. No, it be said that when Charles Johnson used to walk down these dirt-filled roads, his shoulders stood towering with an air of confidence that one could breathe in from a mile away.
Once upon a time, it be rumored that his hazel brown eyes were fixed on singing his way out of Lutts County. They still talk about this fact in the rooms of their barely-able-to-stand homes, where they figure can't nobody hear them but God. Whispering under the dim lights about how it is such a shame that he wasted his talent on a white woman.
There are nights when I would wonder what his voice must have sounded like. I would hear him humming sometimes, but I ain't never heard the sound of butter flowing from his lips.
That's what they say he sounded like.
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