Skip to main content

Shawn A Cosby—Wrappin' Up The Interview (part 2)


JB: Riddle us this Shawn. Favorite movie and why?

Shawn: Hell Or High Water—because it tells the truth about being poor without making it seem like righteous suffering.

JB: There it is, nicely put. Well champ hanging with you has been stratospheric. But say, can you help me out on a little flash piece I'm working? Here's what I've got:

Three grizzled dudes are pulling a home invasion. A middle aged couple is home. The trio binds and gags them, then has at the home. As the trio heads out the couple's teenaged daughter leaps from the pantry with daddy's nine millimeter beretta and puts two of the dudes down. The gun clicks empty before she can drop the third guy. He's unarmed and built like an ocean liner. He advances but stops. He recognizes her. Five years ago she was the best soccer mid-fielder he ever coached.

JB: Can ya finish that off for me bro'? I'd appreciate it! Heck I'll even buy you a bourbon next time we're speaking easy in a juke joint.

Shawn: Sure, check this out:

"Coach Willis?" Sandy whispered.

"Sandy," the coach says. The name feels strange in his mouth. Sandy, a regular name for a regular girl with great footwork. No one has called him Coach in a long time. That was a lifetime ago. Before the pills and the H. Before finding himself as a stereotypical henchman for wannabe Keyser Sozes all up and down North Carolina.

He starts toward her. He isn't going to hurt her. He wants to tell her this isn't him. This isn't Coach Willis anymore but he ain't the devil either. He isn't trying to get revenge for Cotton and Saul. Screw them. He didn't owe them shit. Sandy started backpedaling. She tosses the gun at him. He ducks it and keeps advancing. He knows how it must look but he has to tell her that he isn't...this. Sandy  falls hitting the umbrella caddy on her way down.

"Sandy wait." He's standing over her now, knows how this must look.  He sees her pull one of the umbrellas out of the caddy.

Sandy, the best mid-fielder he ever coached. The girl who was fascinated with the Renaissance. The De Medicis and the Venice royal court. Where people hid daggers in their boots and swords in their canes. That's what she had grabbed. A cane not an umbrella.  He almost appreciated the pain when Sandy slid the blade between his ribs.

**Find this cat at: Shawn A. Cosby on Facebook. And Twitter @blacklionking73. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Her Comes The Nephew! Interview Part One!

Up till now I've been interviewing crime writers on this blog and I will continue to do so. But, I thought "hey, why not broaden the horizon of these sit-downs?" And so I'm proud to bring an artist in the hip hop and rap game. This cat is near and dear to my rock n roll heart because...he's my nephew Jonathan—named after some cat I know. Without further adieu and such...the nephew! a.k.a. That Jonny Brown JB: Thanks for doing this Youngblood. You're a musician like myself but in a totally different world. You rap, write beats and produce. Break some o' that down for us. TJB: No problem. I'm honored to be part of this. Yes, I started writing poetry in the 8th grade because a guest speaker who happened to be Jamaican and a musician taught  us poetry. His being Jamaican caught my attention (Jonathan and I have Jamaican blood pumping through us). He also told me I had a lot of potential. After that I'd write poetry here and there usually to impre

The Most Beautiful Thing I Ever Saw...

 I'm in a tangled relationship with cancer. But you knew that. If you didn't know, now you know. That's not what I'm here to talk about..not entirely. I'd taken my home chemo pack and just read thirty pages of a Brad Parks novel. I turned off my reading light and a delayed flash of light lingered where full illumination once was. Happens right? No biggie. That was, until the light flash took on the vibrant colors and shapes of a moving kaleidoscope. Hmm, that's odd. Oh, wait this was like when you rubbed your eyes too hard as a kid, it'll pass in a second...any second now. I lay and thought 'what is chemo doing now bro?' As if to answer my question I could pick out shapes, human shapes. My mind catapulted back in time to a wild mushroom trip I once enjoyed. But this was better than that. These people were African, and mostly women. My god my ancestors are here! I wanted to roar. I leaned across to my wife to wake her, she's got to see this. No!..

It's Linda Sands, Baby!

Welcome back cats. I've had the distinct privilege of chatting with author Linda Sands. Sands is a tornado of energy and one hell of a writer. Here's how it all went down... JB: Thanks so much for cruising by the blog. I had the pleasure of meeting you last year at the Bouchercon conference in Dallas. And when I say pleasure I mean that we had drinks and you are as haywire as I am...only funnier. Sands: Yeah we did shake that gathering up a bit, didn't we? If you ever need someone to drink your bourbon, stage a fake accident or direct a modeling shoot with a monster truck, I'm your girl. JB: Haha I thought I looked good in front of that bad-boy truck. But anyway...question: when did the writing bug grab you? And being a woman with a ton of horsepower how do you manage to sit still long enough to write books? Sands:I never thought of writing as career. It's just part of who I am—a born storyteller. No matter what job was brining in the money, I was still sp