Creative Writing: Jitney's Drug Store

The tower of steps was now a steep cliff. At the end of the steps stood a tree covered in red and green electric lights that seemed so far away. She stepped down, one step at a time, shaking the railing, coming closer to the tree. The shiny nickels clanked in her pocket when she reached the cold pavement at the bottom of the stairs. She squinted and saw a yellow sign with red writing across the street that said “Jitney’s Drug Store”. There was no sign of any activity on the dirt road, so she began her journey across. “They must sell windmills here,” she thought. When she reached the store, she grabbed the cold handle of the metal door and walked in. An older white woman stood at the counter. Her hair was grey and her face was wrinkled with age. Phoenix could tell that she was much younger than her, but still old. Tacky Christmas bows and garland lay around the store. Papers and other cheap plastic novelty items were on display when she walked in.

“You see my little grandson, he sleeps over at Pine ridge and I thought-”. The woman cut her off.
“Pine ridge? You mean the cemetery?”
“Yes.”
“Oh lord. I am so sorry. Yes, right this way.”
The woman guided Phoenix over to aisle two. A vast array of windmills from reds to blues to yellows sat there. The big, green print read “15 cense each”.
“I don’t got 15 cense”, said Phoenix aloud. But the woman was already gone. Phoenix didn’t know where she had gone or what she was doing. Sweat and tears began to form on her face.
“I only got 10 cense. I really wanted get my boy one of those windmills.” She stood there, gazing down at the floor, as sad as a hound dog. When she looked up, the woman was back, except with a bouquet of pink tulips in her hands. Phoenix looked at her with confusion.
“Lady I don’t got the money to buy those. I don’t got any money to buy anything,” Phoenix mumbled.
“It’s on the house. Now, take these flowers to your grandson. Take a windmill