Category Archives: betrayal

Taken VII

By: Mia L. Hazlett

Voz backed his van into the makeshift driveway. He made sure nobody had followed him. This was his spot. Neither Kev or Mark knew of his deep wooded spot. It had taken him three hours and two vehicles to get here. He needed to be sure if it came down to him becoming the scapegoat, nobody would ever be able to find him.

He didn’t care that Mark had called it “back on.”  Their mission had failed.  Mark had the kid.  This kid was supposed to be dead by now.  Once they all had received their cut, they would never see each other again, but now he nursed a bruised jaw from a plan gone wrong.

There was no reception out here for his phone, so he left it in the van as he hopped out.  In the morning, he would check on the body and send it to its final resting place.  The door creaked open at the push of his foot.  They weren’t supposed to meet up for a few days, so he planned to camp out here with all of his groceries.  The small flashlight clenched between his teeth dropped to the floor along with one of the bags.

He bent down to pick up the bag and flashlight. “Nice little hiding spot. Very nice,” Mark said.  “You were going to keep this all to yourself? I thought we were friends. We are friends, aren’t we James K. Reynolds Sr.?  And I’m thinking the only reason you would be called Senior is because there is a Junior somewhere out there.  Hmm, with a simple guess I’m going to say, Delaware or North Carolina.  Oh, that’s right, your parents are in North Carolina and your son and daughters are in Delaware.  Well let me not interrupt your vacation.  Take care of yourself.  See you in three days.  Don’t think of not coming.  There are some people I know that live in Delaware and North Carolina. Oh yeah, take care of The Package.”

Voz watched Mark disappear into the darkness.  He heard no sounds and saw no lights.  He was waiting for the sound of a car or just something. Nothing, but blackness and silence. The Package? What did he mean?  He scrambled for his flashlight and waved it around the room looking for the tiny girl.  She was curled up asleep on the couch.  Now he had the package and they knew his spot.

© 2013 Mia L. Hazlett

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Filed under betrayal, fiction, kidnapping, Taken

Macy VII

By: Mia L. Hazlett


Work was absolutely impossible.  Knowing I had a box full of my ancestry waiting at home made me appreciate the long weekend that was now upon me.  I had told my friends I was going away for the weekend, so I could have uninterrupted alone time with my grandmother.  Dead or not, this was the closest we had ever been.  I needed to hear her story.  I wanted to understand why she spent my lifetime showing her love for me through hate.

There was an inner conflict warring inside me at the same time.  Should I include my mother in unraveling the mystery of her mother?  We both knew who she was, but I guess in life it means a whole lot more to find out why people are the way they are.  But because I was only a few letters in, I decided to wait on sharing with my mother.  I felt a need to protect her, just as she had spent her life protecting me as best she could.  There was a part of me that felt as though my grandmother was apologizing to my mother through me.  She knew I told my mother everything,  Maybe she wrote these letters to my mother so I would tell her, rather than for her to have to read them by herself.  Because if my mother had received them, she would never share any of these with anyone.

I usually have my bottle of Riesling and a good book as I cozy under my sheets on a Friday night.  But wine didn’t compliment the mood to the #4 envelope that sat next to my pillow.  I opted for a cup of decaf coffee.

Well Macy,

Even dough Mz Suzana dun luvd me and Moma, we dun stoped wurkin’ fo her not to much aftr dat der lunch.  Sho was sad fo me and Mz Mary.  Sho was sad.  Wuznt jus bout money now and eatin.  It wuz jus hard to find good white folk to wurk fo bak den.  Moma didn’t want wurk fo nobody dat had manee boyz.  ‘Cuz aftr skool I wood come on and meet her at her job.  Even dough I wuz yung, she dun sed my bodee parts wur reel ladeelike. We dun had us good luk wit Mz Suzana, but not manee wite ladeez wuz like her.  Lots ov dem dun hated culurzds. Don’t reelee no how it wuz dat Mz Suzana culd say stuff to her son, cuz most timez da white women culd not say nuttin in her house.  So Moma wuz scurd a boy or da man in da house wood want to touch my bodee.  After wut Mz. Suzanaz boy dun did to me, I didnt never want no boy on top me like dat again.  

Moma dun found uz a house wit a reel mean ole ladee, but she wuz alwayz in her room.  Her dotter wuz sumpin reel nice Macy.  Sumpin reel nice.  I dun liked Mz. Bell reel good.  She pay Moma eight moneez a week Macy.  We ain’t dun never made dat type der money.  Mz. Suzana onlee pay Moma five moneez a week and gave us food and da clothes, but now Mz Bell do dat and mo moneez.  Mz Bell have hurself two sonz.  They wuz like da sun an da dark.  Now here me Macy.  HERE ME REEL GOOD.  I never dun looked any ov doze boyz in der faces or eyez, but they dun said I did.  

I dun walkd to go meet Moma one day after school.  Dats wut I wuz suppozed to do.  Meet moma at Mz Bells house.  I wood do a da sweepin dat needed to be dun.  When I dun got der I walked round da house to da back.  Now my clothez wuz still small cuz Mz Mary wuz much biger than me.  But I wuz a bit biger than Mz Bell.  Dats da clothez I wuz gettin.  Mz Bells old old clothz.  Mama sed to preciate all we got an wear dem if I wuz gonna be der.  Her shirt fit me reel tight cross my growin’ chest.  Moma sed my bodee parts wuz growin sumpin wild.  I wuz jus reel quiet when she wood talk like dat.  I dun come round dat house and Mz Bells bad son wuz sitin’ on a stump with a long twig in hiz hand.  He looked at me sumpin rong Macy.  He looked sumpin rong.  I jus went to da back door and der wuzn’t no way da door wood open.  He started laffin’ sumpin rong.  He told me wuzn’t no one home.  

I dun turned to walk down da path I had come round to, but he wuz in my way.  He got reel close like to me and sed he dun seen me lookin’ at him.  I told him I hadn’t been lookin’ at nobuddy.  He dun slapped me sumpin’ hard in my face for sassin him.  Dats wut he sed Macy, I dun sassed him.  He took dat twig and dun poked my chest.  He kept on pokin and tole me to take my shirt off.  I dun sed no.  I new wut he wuz gonna do.  But Macy wuznt no boy gonna be on top me like Mz Suzanas son gain.  Not never.  He dun push me and wit all my power, I dun push dat boy rite on back to the ground.  Den I dun run round dat house and he dun cot up wit me and grabbed and ripped my shirt clear off.  I didn’t have no things on under it, so chest wuz showin’.  Moma told me only my husband wuz suppoze to see me like dat.  But I didn’t care.  I kept runnin’.  

I felt him grab my sholeder and push me.  I don’t know wut hapend, cuz I woke up in Mz Bellz house in da back room on a cot.  My hed dun hurt sumpin’ awful and I wuz lookin’ at Mz Bellz mean moma.  I think she wuz happy wuzn’t dead cause she started prayin sumpin.  Mz Bell came runin on nex to her moma an den I saw Moma.  She was cryin’ wen she dun grabbed and hugged me sumpin tite.  It wuz a bit odd cuz Mz Bellz mean moma wuz bein reel nise to me and rubbin my hed. 

Afder dat der day, I wuznt loud to go round der no more.  Mz Bell dun taked cared ov uz reel nise, but hur moma wuz reel meen like.  She dun hated uz.  I never did see dat son ov herz again.  Sed he went to liv wit sum hiz momas people dat lived sumwhere in a difrent state.  To munts later, my Moma told me why.  She dun told me everything dat dun happend dat day wit Mz Bellz son.  Don’t member much bout da storee, but I new my bodee parts done got me to have a babee inside me.  Yes Macy.  Dat is why Mz Bellz son had to go far away.  He dun gave me a babee dat der day wen I dun hit me hed.


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Filed under betrayal, daughters, fear, Macy, man, mercy, pregnancy, racism, violence, woman

Anointed Numbers

Anointed Numbers
By: Mia L. Hazlett

You waited on the well for me in 4:16.

I surrendered my all to you when I lost understanding.
You wrote to me 3:5 and 3:6.

When my life made no sense and I lost it all,
You smiled upon me and promised me 23:1.

When I prayed for just the small gains,
You assured me 16:10.

You transformed my ways, and brought grace to my humble spirit,
Because 4:6.

There were times that I stumbled, but never lost faith.
I delighted in Your mighty approval, 25:21.

With the failure of 5:25, you granted me the permission to love freely,
Because of 5:32.

And when I was ready to settle, You moved me once more.
For my 3:20, commanded so much more.

So with an open heart because I wanted to feast,
I held on to Your promise of 1:19.

Because I know that 6:10,
And through Your grace, 23:6.

In Jesus Name, Amen.

(John, Proverbs, Psalms, Luke, James, Matthew, Ephesians, Matthew, Ephesians, Isaiah, Matthew, Psalms)


Filed under betrayal, Christian, faith, God, grace, love, marriage, mercy, obedience, patience

That Look

That Look
By: Mia L. Hazlett
Written: 10/22/07

I watched the look of concern sweep across her face as she rushed to be by her lover’s side. She just stood there as if she didn’t even care. Their hands reached out for each other to give them both the sense of security that everything would be alright. I couldn’t even tell if she was touching him or if he even knew she was there. A tear welled in the corner, but was very cautious not to fall. I couldn’t tell if her emotionless expression was to show her strength or to suppress her pain. She caressed his hand to let him know she would not let anything happen to him. How could she just stand there as if nothing had happened?

My fascination with their love was not in their entwined hands, her concerned brow or his instant relief at having her enter the room. It was the look that both of them shared. A look that needed no words. A look that offered comfort in a time of emergency. A look that said, I love you, I love you, I love you….don’t leave me, I need you here by my side. As the nurse forced their departure, that cautious tear finally streamed down her cheek. She let herself look back one more time with that look…that look.

I could tell by her poise, her refusal to look at him, and that he reached for me and not her, that whatever they had was now gone. She offered no love to anyone that came in the room. She stood off to the side allowing people to shuffle through without so much as a glance. I couldn’t tell if he was looking for me or her, but when he called her name, she gave him a look. A look of disgust. A look of why am I even here. A look that said, die, die, just die…I don’t love you or want to be by your side. But as the nurse forced my departure, she gave me that look…that look.

I sat alone in the steel wheeled chair. If not for his brothers, I wouldn’t have been able to take a step. The nonchalant smile of the nurse offered little comfort. His brother’s arms supported me and offered me comfort in my time of need. If only he had come home tonight. If only we had stayed in tonight. We could have talked about our problems and we wouldn’t be here. He would be deep inside me right now and not laying alone. I would tell him that it was going to be alright and we could start over. I could almost feel the rhythmic rocking of his hips, taste his mouth, and feel his breath. But now we may never have that chance. But the reality is I may never touch him again. He may never hold our children again. He may never hold me again. We could lose him forever. I could lose him forever.

How can I go home? How can I go home? What will I tell his family, what will I tell my family, what will I tell our babies; because I don’t know what happened. There is everything there to remind me of him: his clothes carelessly strewn across the floor, our pictures that highlight every room, the smell of him on my sheets. Lord Jesus, give me strength for You are my rock. I want to pray to God to bring him back to me, but then there goes his wife with that look…that look.

That’s right, I’m his wife. I watched her concerned look, their entwined fingers, and that look. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t be; because in the union of he and I, the odd one out was me. In that one moment, I wanted to be her. I wanted that look. I wanted him to know I would make everything alright. I wanted him to see my tears did not have to be cautious. I wanted him to need me there by his side.

His brothers promised to take care of me, but they chose her. In the house of the Lord they smiled at me, but in the streets with the devil they honored her. They left me alone with no ride home. They left me alone and cared for her. They left me alone and didn’t care. But when he asked them to take care of me, that old familiar church smile came back, and they said, “No problem.” But that’s okay; because little did I know He did not leave me alone. He got me a ride home. He took care of me. He carried me through.

That’s right, I’m his mistress. I should be her. I’m the one he really wants to be with. If only she knew who I was, she wouldn’t have so cordially introduced herself and shaken my hand. She would have screamed when I caressed his hands or cried at his relief when I entered the room. She would have crumbled if she knew of our secret love affair. Wouldn’t she? Because no wife would allow the other women to love her husband right in front of her…or would she? Because when she passed me, she gave me that look…that look.

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