The Southshire Pepper Pot

A few weeks ago I submitted a story entittled “A Bittersweet Land” to the Southshire Roundtable, a writing group down in Bennington. They are putting together an anthology having to do with food and put out a call for short stories. While not a food expert, I have held Turkish coffee in high regard after spending some time in Israel. This led to my little story detailing my first encounter with this strong, bitter drink.

This morning I was notified that the story has been accepted into the anthology. That means there is some revising that needs to be done. We’ll see. For now, here are the first two paragraphs:

The sun peeked over the western wilderness, giving the rippled sand a golden shimmer. Long after the call to prayer from the mosques echoed through the city, Jews hustled through the dim light on their way tothe Western Wall. Palestinian men reclined on their taxis, called out loudly to one another, and waited patiently for tourists to arrive. The shoes of the Orthodox Jews slapped on the limestone streets with particular savagery, creating an eeriejuxtaposition with their faces that exuded peace and preparation. I rose and peered from my balcony onto the scene below

The sky was a clear blue over the ramparts of Jerusalem and the dry air beckoned me out of my slumber to breathe in deeply all that surrounded. Hopping out of bed, I planned to shower before the precious hot water in our dorm was drained. After showering and giving the mucky bathroom floor a quicksqueegee, I hit the streets in my white suburban American college student attire. I was off to pick up freshly baked pita bread and the latest batch of pictures from myfriend Reuben.