Don't Cross the X


Inspired by true events, Don't Cross the X is a heartbreaking story of a woman's tragic life after crossing paths with the local witch.

In 1919, twenty-two-year-old Pearl Hayes leads a blessed life with her husband and two sons in rural South Carolina. But when she crosses a large X etched into the dirt near a local blackberry field, she comes to find that she has entered into the realm of a force of evil she has no hope of stopping. Slowly, her life deteriorates, and through her misery she knows who is to blame: Hazel Sullivan—who is known, to the town of Walterboro, as a witch.

Eighty-two years later, in 2001, Pearl Hayes can no longer remember her past—all that she knows is the grief and longing she feels deep in her wounded heart. Then, when her estranged great-granddaughter and great-great-granddaughter come to visit her at her nursing home, the memories of her prior life come rushing back to her. At the end of her harrowing life, Pearl is desperate to tell her story to what is left of her family, and to deliver a warning: that the evil that took her life from her will come to take theirs, too.

Evocative, poignant, and heartbreaking, Don't Cross the X illustrates the indomitable strength of the human spirit in the face of despair.

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About the Author

Author Name : Tina LePere



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Latest Poem

My great grandfather was a Slave

My grandfather was a Native

My grandmother was a Bantu

My mother was a kaffir, Nigga, Negro

Names imposed by shackles

But an Afrakan I am

An identity my forefathers were deprived of


An identity I am now polluting with the fumes of cigarettes

In dope I am giving it another face

In ecstasy I am giving it a comical image

My drunken stupor gives it an unstable belonging

My borrowed accent contradicts what it represents

My imitated dress code conceals its beauty

My adopted religion undermines my intellectual prowess

My language deafens my ancestors

My values are valueless

My mind is discriminatory

It repels anything indigenous

Whilst absorbing all that is alien

None can identify with me

Even those I am emulating

Patriotism I reserve for my kind

I look down at my patriots

If I were xenophobic

I could have been my own victim

I pride myself in my slanted inferior education

An education promptly deleting my true history

Ignorance is my custom

I am dreaming dreams my forefathers cannot interpret

I am singing praise songs for my dying culture

I am branding a heritage

I cannot inherit

Knowledge of freedom is embedded in my subconscious

But suppressed by fear

Fear to develop my culture and identity

Fear to be rejected by the world

Fear to be different and still love myself

Yet with no identity I remain

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