Angelia Vernon Menchan

Angelia Vernon Menchan is an author, publisher and public speaker who owns two publishing companies, MAMM Productions and Honorable Menchan Media. Mrs. Menchan is also a Budget Officer and former Job Corps Counselor. To date she has published twenty-three books of her own work, both fiction and non-fiction and more than eighty ebook novellas on You can access her bibliography on search words: Angelia Vernon Menchan

Contact information:
Phone numbers: 904 714 2272 904 303 2679

Thursday, December 30, 2010


“Whoa baby girl, you need to watch where you going.”

Zen had been walking and reading, and not paying attention. She had walked smack dab into Crazy Charlie. Charlie Jones was a very tall, muscular ex-Vietnam veteran. Zen knew he wasn’t really crazy, but was playing a role. She wasn’t afraid of him. Charlie was part of her community.

“Sorry Charlie…” she grinned at him and he grinned back. He treated her like a little sister and everyone on the block knew not to mess with her.

“Girl what that you reading?”

He grabbed the book from her and was surprised to see what it was.

“Dang girl, that’s some heavy reading for a little girl like you. Seem to me like you would be reading romance novels.”

Looking straight up at him, she rolled her large eyes.

“Now Charlie, you know I ain’t got no time for no romance novels. I have every intention of getting up out of here and romance ain’t gon’ do it.”

He smiled. He loved when she tried to talk all slangy. It sounded funny to his ears.

“So what grade you in now?”

“I’m in the tenth grade…”

Shock and surprise showed on his face. He knew exactly how old she was and that she had just turned fourteen. What she didn’t know was that Crazy Charlie was her father. Her mama had told her it was someone else and he went along with that because he thought it was better. But he had always looked out for her and half of his ‘crazy’ check was placed in her mama’s hand each month. If anyone were to look really close, they would be able to see it. The curly hair, the Indian cast to the face, the height, but no one was looking. Not even Zen and that was a good thing. The name Zen had been his choice.