Archive for Serial Thriller

Serial Thriller 2

Posted in Entertainment, Serial Thriller, Uncategorized with tags on January 16, 2017 by C.L. Harmon

By C.L. Harmon

He remembered that she was a school teacher and called on her some time later asking if she would be interested in tutoring Porter. Of course she said she would and our friendship began. For the remainder of the school year, Porter would come to our home after school every Tuesday and Thursday. He would work on the lesson plan my mother had for him while I worked on my homework. Once we finished, we spent our time playing army, checkers, building forts in the woods and tossing around the baseball. He would even have dinner with us sometimes if Polk was late picking him up. We became the best of friends that year even though we went to different schools because of segregation. That summer we celebrated our birthdays together and it was the best summer of my childhood. We were the same age only a week apart but in separate months. I was the oldest in late June and his was the first of July. When we turned ten, my mama invited Polk and Porter’s mama Selma and the other siblings to our house for a cookout and suggested they celebrate his birthday with mine. That turned out to be a good thing since all the white kid’s parents wouldn’t let them stay when they found out blacks were there.  I didn’t mind though. As long as Porter was there, I didn’t care who else showed up. To hell with them anyway, they just didn’t know what they were missing I thought then and still do. Looking back on it now, I had no idea what type of storm was brewing in the winds to come. I know there was no way to see the dark cloud that was moving into position. Even if I had known, I couldn’t have imagined how sinister and ugly those blood-filled clouds would be when they opened to piss down on all of us in the small community of Spirit Oaks in that dusty small county of Pawnee where I grew up.


Serial Thriller 1

Posted in Entertainment, Serial Thriller, Uncategorized with tags , on January 13, 2017 by C.L. Harmon

Welcome to Serial Thriller, a fun fictional story written in segments. Please check back for new installments!

By C.L. Harmon

It’s funny what the mind chooses to remember. It fades certain things out to where they hardly seem like they were ever real. While others images are frozen still in the same pristine condition in which the mind first discovered them. For me it’s the flies which my mind chooses to keep fresh and out of the destructive reach of time. I remember how they buzzed around his head like airplanes in some form of attack formation. The little pests were persistent in their desire to taste the death of the best friend I would ever know. To my 16 year-old brain, they were an image that would be blazoned into my memories for years to come and years to go. They were the images of Porter Montgomery hanging from that tree and my innability to swat those flies away that will forever walk the dark corridors of memories where most us never care to venture. I met Porter when we were just youngsters, nine years of age. His daddy Polk had done real well for himself and owned three car dealerships in two counties. Porter had four sisters, two older and two younger. Polk was quite accomplished for a black man in 1957 rural Oklahoma. Hell, for that matter, he would have been quite accomplished for a white man at that time. He was also a decorated WWII veteran, only leaving the service when shrapnel took part of his left leg. Old Polk was a determined man, a determined man indeed. He was determined to survive a war, determined to be successful in business, determined to raise a son that white men would respect and even fear. But in the end, his determination only focused on a blind justice that would be seen from heaven to hell. I remember once as a child I heard some men talking about Polk in Belson’s Hardware. I was probably around the age of seven or eight, not long before I met Porter. One of the men there said that even with his leg barely attached, he fought Nazis off, killing scores of them during the Ardennes Forest Nazi offensive. He even dragged a wounded officer out of harm’s way and saved his life, using the only leg he had left that worked. I guess it’s that type of determination that makes one successful in war…and selling cars it seems. Of course, having all of the black customers that populated two counties and the Indians too didn’t hurt either when it came to being successful in business. Indians didn’t trust white men either I guess. This sense of success is how I would come to know Porter. Polk loved Porter dearly being that he was his only son. But more than that, Porter was a project of prosperity. He was just an extension of Polk’s desire to succeed in a white man’s world. Porter was going to be better, richer, more educated and as equally respected as any white man in the world as far as Polk was concerned. Porter though, had a learning disability. Actually it was a comprehension problem. My mom was a school teacher and did tutoring after school to make extra money. Polk had met my mother once and remembered how she had treated him as an equal and not a sub-human, which was a customary action by many during those times.