Dave Wright Writes

  Sadie Pfiefer by Dave Wright Nine-year-old Sadie Pfiefer is at her place in the cotton mill. It’s six a.m. A steam whistle shrieks. A single light bulb hanging over the hall dims as the colossal looming machine rumbles to life. The South Carolina heat has already invaded the textile factory. Flecks of cotton stick to Sadie’s hand as she pieces together the first broken thread of the day. She wipes the back of her hand on her dress, a rag that has been handed down to her by four older sisters. Hundreds of bobbins spin like a parade of ballet dancers. She approaches a spindle that has lost its pirouette a few feet down the row. A strand of cotton thread hangs loose from the spool above it. Wisps of cotton flutter over the floor. The noise is deafening. As Sadie pulls the stalled bobbin from its place and pieces the thread together, the foreman rushes past her with a snort. She tries to hold her breath. He smells like Pappy—a rank combination of sweat, onions, and beer. They ca...

  Revenge of Mary Jo Bilke by Dave Wright This story is dedicated to the many women who have joined the ‘Me Too’ Movement. This is a work of fiction. Although some places may be real, all characters and events are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. [1993] Mary Jo Bilke arrived at the Phantom Hills Ranch a half-hour early. A dose of Special K, something she had purchased on a street corner earlier in the week was tucked into her purse. She wore a loose white silk blouse, a tight navy-blue skirt, and red pumps. She sat at the oak dining room table to wait. A trickle of sweat made its way between her tan breasts as she placed a new bottle of Glenlivet next to her purse on the table. A picture window commanded a view of the ranch’s long driveway and a blue Montana sky. Heat waves radiated off the late-afternoon desert floor. A small cloud of dust app...