Little Alfred, Another Lost Child

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Many readers of this book may feel at a loss to feel the real people and how they felt. That is the purpose of telling it the way it was. No fakery, no embellishments, just the raw straight-from-the-hip truth. This is not fiction, this is fact. No deep seated love or caring, except for my grandma’s and the Shermans, (may their goodness last for eternity) no affection, no deep looking into their souls for a little lost child nothing. These foster parents were paid and it was a job, just like any other job, that’s all it was for them.

I have no love or hate for these people, it was something that just happened. Nothing can change the past, it is long gone, one can only look back at it and try to remember the good times, and forget sorrowful and hurting times.

This manuscript was submitted to a literary agent who liked it. There was just one problem, she wanted to change it, give it more impact, more pizzazz, make it stand out even if it meant putting in fiction. I didn’t and wouldn’t go for that. If I wanted this manuscript to be fiction with all its embellishments, I’d write it as such.. what you will be reading is my life through my eyes as a child, with all its warts, cuts, bruises and ugliness. It’s not perfect, it’s life.