There’s just something about Jamaican White Rum.

Flash Fiction: Spirits

Miss Ida’s house was the only one in the district that didn’t have burglar bars. My schoolmates would make fun of her whenever they saw her pouring white rum around the perimeter of her home. I often wished they could see the circle of towering shadows guarding her house, just so they would piss themselves.

There’s a reason people call liquor “spirits”.