Danger Everywhere

Fiorella walked up to the road at twilight and started looping a long string of tinsel garlands on the trees down into the driveway.  The sky was blue-gray, the moon was a smudge of white overhead, and the air was still.  Suddenly she realized she was all alone on the darkening road--a situation right out of Forensic Files.

And that, my friends, is how a writer's mind works.

Undocumented

Confession:
Fiorella's paternal grandfather lived and died as an undocumented immigrant--an illegal alien, or whatever you want to call it.  And, like most other immigrants, he came to this country for opportunity, to make a better life for himself than he could have had in his native country.  He worked in the Pennsylvania coal mines--just as today's UIs pick the crops, clean houses, and mow lawns.  And on the side, he married and fathered four children, who produced seven grandchildren, all of whom would have made him proud--two teachers, an audiologist, an accountant, an entrepreneur, a lawyer,  and your Fio, who ain't doin' too bad either.

The only difference Fiorella can see between Grandpa and today's UIs is that he was blond and a citizen of the Austro-Hungarian empire, while they are dark and citizens of Mexico.

Racism by any other name can stink as sweet.

Story Source

Before Fiorella wrote stories, she told them--to herself while she lay in bed at night.

Fio was afraid of the dark, or, more correctly, of what might lurk in the dark.  Her family had just moved from Ohio to Texas and everything was new and strange--and scary.  Instead of having a cozy little room next to her parents' bedroom,  Fio had a large room at the front of the house, and the filmy curtains would blow in the evening breeze, reaching out toward her on the bed like ghostly hands.  And, unlike the house in Ohio, this one had just one story, which meant someone--or something--could leap in on Fio at any minute.

Fio couldn't sleep, but she needed to sleep, so she calmed herself by making up happy stories.  As she grew older, the stories were based on her mother's Book-of-the-Month selections, then on her own reading.  And every story had a happy ending.

As do her stories now.