Scott Holleran’s writing appears in literature, including Classic Chicago magazine, which debuted fiction with his stories in 2024. Listen to the author read his fiction aloud at ShortStoriesByScottHolleran.substack.com. Read his non-fiction at ScottHolleran.substack.com. In Parentheses previously published Mr. Holleran’s “Christened Bliss” and “Escape from Indigena”. His self-published collection of short stories is forthcoming and he has received third prize in the Chicago-based Line of Advance literary journal’s 10th annual Col. Darron L. Wright Memorial Writing Awards. S. Holleran has work featured in the recent issue of In Parentheses Literary Magazine (Summer 2025). Listen to “Escape from Indigena” here. Read “Christened Bliss” here and “Prime Mover” here.
“Escape from Indigena” was highlighted in Volume 8 of In Parentheses.
Escape from Indigena
“Look—see those rows of tall, green stalks with white fuzz? — isn’t the sight of it rapturous? Yes, I see them, too. Yes, those are slaves. They pick the cotton by hand. It used to be that — what’s this, we’re slowing down? That’s odd, this train’s far from Temple Station. Move over, let me have a look. Ah, there, around the bend — there’s one standing in the way. Oh! I hope it slows down in time…remember last Sunday? Forensics took hours.
“I don’t know how he escaped. I certainly don’t know about any Underground — and neither do you. He sure doesn’t or this would be a runaway instead of a suicide. Now, look away, child, no
peeking…
“Nope, he’s still there. Hasn’t moved. No, no tears. No screaming like last time. This one stares ahead and his chin’s held high. Don’t look. You’ve seen enough. I’ve already told you I don’t know why. Now stop asking.
“Stop that crying. What’s all this over a field slave?
“Calm down, we’ve stopped. Must be hot there in the sun…he stands still. Looks sunburnt. Look at that posture and brow. He is strong, this one. Wide eyes. Why do purebreds run. Why not just pick the cotton?
“What?? Because they’re—they’re—they’re lower than us. Who knows why — because we’re natives, I s’pose.
“Oh, you think they’re like us?!? You think too much.
“— Hush — be silent, son. Because it’s forbidden to speak kindly of a slave…here comes the Routekeeper. Don’t speak. Quick, look at that cottonfield. Watch those cottonpickin’ fieldhands.
“Greetings, Routekeeper! Praise be to earth, tribe and blood. No…nothing unusual. We make pilgrimage to Diversity Temple. Passes? Here. No, Routekeeper, no doubting here. There’s video? Oh, that was us praying over the cottonfield.
“This malechild? No. This one’s young, so his eyes and mind tend to wander…don’t bother… he’s enrolled in Tribal One, so he has not yet learned the Native Order. The Indigenous will see to it that he does…Blessings, Routekeeper — hail to the Grandmaster…
“…That was close, son. Be quiet. Don’t look again. You could be cited, that’s why. Do you wish to be sent to detention camp like your cousin Matilda who smiled at that gateboy on the bridge?
“You want to be taken away???
“— Where are you going??? Stop, no — no!! Noooo!!! Stop that boy!!!!!
“…How was I to know a child would disembark? The malechild is not my son…I swear I know not who he is or why he did what he did. What?!? — he spoke to a Whitey?!? But it is forbidden! Whip the boy!! Give me the whip. I’ll do it and I’ll whip him hard. What? He ran into the cottonfield? With the slave?!? Mercy me. They fled for the Underground? Surely, the Squad will hunt and hang them.
“I seek only to be on my knees at Temple. Have mercy, Grandmaster!
“I am cursed by the traitor to Indigena.”
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By In Parentheses in Volume 10
48 pages, published 10/15/2025
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