*Recently I was reminded of the stories of Flannery O'Connor, and I remembered that I'd written a kind of tribute to her and her short story "The River" a few years ago. Most of her stories require work of the reader; "The River" is no exception. It burned several images upon my mind as I read and reread it, and those images manifested in some of my own characters. Mrs. Perkins hails from her own short story , but her first appearance is in a novel I'm still working on. Harold comes from the same novel, and the following story takes place years before he makes his vows to become a priest. They both live on the street named Eldorado. Back Porch River The old book on Mrs. Perkins's thighs weighed on her; the pages had yellowed years prior, yet somehow it was new to her tonight and pressed down upon her. It felt alive and warm to her legs as the words and images swirled through her mind. And it was a welcome warmth, for she sat on her back porch
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