Skyline 2016, the third in a series of annual publisher’s anthologies produced by Cyberworld Publishing, showcases the prose and poetry talents of Central Virginia writers. There is no overarching theme for the works in this anthology, so each can be discovered and appreciated on its own context and merits. Over half of the works found here are works by Central Virginia writers that won or placed in various Virginia regional and statewide writing contests during 2014 and 2015. Also included in the anthology are other works selected from the portfolios of these contest selectees, and special contributor works by established writers in the region.
On my seventh day, my first work detail came up. We were going out to a rural spot to clear brush from the side of a road running through a heavily forested and hilly area. It was with great dismay that when I jumped up into the back of the van, I saw both Bobby Joe and Maurice among those who were going out on the detail.
It was a hot day and the work was hard. We had small saws and machetes and were clearing brush and saplings back some twenty minutes from the road. There were six inmates and three guards. Maurice clearly was in charge and everyone there, including the two other guards, were afraid of him. Everyone, of course, except Bobby Joe, who seemed to be a special friend of Maurice’s.
Bobby Joe was probably the best and fastest worker among us. It wasn’t long until he was so heated up that he stripped off his shirt and undershirt and was swinging away, covered with sweat that matted the thick, black hair on his chest and arms into swirls and made his undulating muscles gleam in the sunlight. The other inmates quickly followed suit in stripping down to their waists--all except for me.
“Take off that shirt,” Maurice called out to me in a booming voice. “Can’t you see it’s too hot to work in?”
I pretended that I hadn’t heard him.
“Take off the shirt, I said,” Maurice boomed again.
“I’m okay the way I am,” I answered in the most pleasant voice I could muster. “But thanks, anyway.”
Maurice stomped over to me, and all of the inmates stopped to watch us. “I said for you to take off that shirt, son, and I meant what I said.”
“Sure thing, Sir,” I said and I stripped my shirt and undershirt off. My eyes flicked over to Bobby Joe, and I could see a wide smile of appreciation on his face.
“And because you didn’t do what I asked, you can go ahead and strip all your other clothes off too and work that way for a while.”
I was dumbfounded. “But, Sir, this is a public road.”
“Good point,” Maurice said with a big smile. “You can go on into the woods there a bit and clear brush over by the picnic area. We’ll see that no one goes in there, but not much of a chance they will. Not many want to picnic next to where a chain gang is working.”
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