Love Be The Devil, But It Won’t Get Me
We were watching the show from a splintered, weathered picnic table in front of the big stage at The Shack when she told me she was leaving me. It was midnight, but it was still a hundred degrees out and sweat rolled down my face and into my eyes as she walked away. The Burnside boys were singing their brand of gritty, corn liquor soaked blues. My heart thudded in my chest like it was threatening to make an appearance but the toes of my boots kept tapping the dirt and eventually I threw my head back and sang along.
From Guest Contributor Sarah Reddick
Sarah Reddick is a writer who is currently in the MFA program at Lindenwood University in St. Charles, Missouri. Her work has appeared in Cattywampus Magazine, Salt Zine, The Local Voice, and the Mid Rivers Review.