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Fiction Suspense African American

This story contains sensitive content

The story is about racial intolerance. In particular, the death of a man. Because of the colour of his skin, his occupation, and the ignorance of the cowardly men who show their true colours with their hatred. They hid their cowardice and dressed in white robes and hoods to carry out their actions of hatred. It is also about the abuse of power by those elected into government office, mayor, and police since they were instrumental in turning a blind eye to the attacks perpetrated by the KKK.


**Please read to the very end.



Troy Sampson, a negro boy, and George Bentley, a white boy, were best friends but couldn't spend time together at school. They went to different schools since they were different colours. After school, before they went to work at Troy’s grand pappy’s grainery, both would make a beeline to the bush and hang out there to talk about their lives at home and growing up in Montgomery, Alabama. 


“Too many times,” George said, “I witnessed my parents discussing bar b que and Daddy having to cook it.” 


“My parents never want to eat anything bar b queued," Troy said. "And they never know whether to stay home at night or to go to the church with the rest of our people.”


“Troy, what do you mean? You go to church at night? Why?” George said. 


"Yeah, George, because if we don't, sometimes men in tall white hats and white sheets that cover their bodies come to our houses to scare us and take some of our adult male family members or older teen boys to beat up or bully," Troy said.


“I don't understand any of what you're telling me. I’ve never seen any of that kind of stuff going on in this town," George said. 


“George, wake up already. You're white. How could you understand or ever see any kind of that stuff going on in this town? They only visit black people’s homes.” 


“They do? Well, do you recognize their voices or know anything about them? Like how tall they are?” 


“No," Troy said.


"Why do they do it?"


"To spread hatred and rule by fear so none of us can tell who they are.”  


“Nobody should spread those things or rule by fear.” 


“My grandpappy always says, ‘Revenge is a dish best served cold," Troy said.


“That's clever. I wonder what it means.” 


***


The day after, the black preacher was taken, dragged behind a pickup truck, and severely beaten and horsewhipped until his back was red with blood; everyone’s tongue was wagging about it in town. His body arrived in a makeshift pine box casket that opened on the sides and left in front of the town hall, where everybody in the city was sure to see his beaten body.


The day's unrest began at 7:00 a.m. when Dorothy, the woman who worked with the mayor at town hall, screamed and was unable to pass by the dead, brutalized body. Gail, who worked with the sheriff, was on her way into the town hall and passed out at the sight. Gail's knees gave out as she flopped onto the cement steps in front of the town hall, where she remained until the sheriff showed up at 7:10 a.m.  


“What do you believe is the reason for this negro to be on display like that?” Dorothy said.


“I don’t know, but I’ll take care of it,” the local sheriff—George’s Daddy—told Gail when he got her off the ground and into his office. 


“Please do. And do it quickly.” Her lips were pursed, and she didn’t look amused. She gave Sheriff Bentley a stern look and then tilted her head. 


“I’ll make some calls.” He went outside, closed the box, covered the top with the Confederate flag, and went inside to his office. 


He called the church and asked to speak with the spiritual advisor. 


“Sorry, sheriff, someone beat and dragged our preacher for over an hour behind a pickup truck and then left him at the foot of our church steps last night," she said. "They mocked him, saying, 'Where's your Lord, Jesus, now, boy?' Those cowards didn’t even wait around so we could see who they were to report them to you," she paused.


"Well, that's unfortunate. You know my office is always willing to serve justice," the sheriff said.


"Well, sheriff, I'm glad to hear that because even if they did stay around, it wouldn't have mattered since they all wore white robes and hoods. But we did get a good look at their shoes." She paused.


"That's excellent news! Maybe you should draw some of what the shoes looked like down and send them to my office," he said.


"Yes, I'll get some of the parishioners to do that. Thank you. Maybe you'll be gracious enough to have all the men come forward in town so we can see their everyday shoes. What do you think about that, sheriff?"


“Noted. But the reason I'm calling and the issue at hand is that his body is in a pine casket-looking box that has the sides down in the town centre so that all of his bruises and beatings show." 


“Yes, it is. That’s where it will remain until the Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. comes to preside over funeral arrangements. You know that preacher was the reverend’s first cousin. And it doesn't really show all of his beatings, sheriff. Those white-sheeted men horsewhipped him, too."


“I see. How fortunate for us here in Montgomery. How soon is he coming to do that, then?” 


“He’ll be here by the weekend.” 


“Thank you. I'll see what I can do to get you a shoe lineup. In the meantime, if you could send me the sketches of the shoes, that would be great. Thank you, Goodbye." 


“Have a blessed day, Sheriff.” 


***


“Man, Troy, I never heard my Daddy so upset in all my life. Ranting and raving about a reverend and how it was a mistake to watch him die.”


“Who watched him die?” Troy said.


“I think my Daddy did,” George said.


“He did? Does your Daddy wear those white robes?” Troy said.


“I don’t know. But I don’t think so,” George said. 


“That wouldn’t be too good for us if he did,” Troy said. 


“Yeah, I agree," George said. 


***


“The FBI investigation into the death of the preacher now that Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. arrived to preside over the funeral,” the sheriff said, "means this place will be crawling with people from different newspapers." 


“How unfortunate for those involved,” Momma said. “I’m sure glad we don’t have any white sheet suits in this house. Do we?” Momma asked, looking annoyed at Daddy.


“Of course not. Do you think I’m stupid? I don’t keep any of that shit in here. Not with the boy being so young and his friend being who it is,” Daddy looked annoyed, this time, at Momma. 


“I’m telling you, Troy, that’s what I overheard them saying,” George said.


“Oh, my God. Is your Daddy? ...Huh, he's the wizard?” Troy said.


“No, he’s not. Don’t you think I’d know something like that if he was a wizard?” George said.


“How could you know? What time do you go to bed?” Troy said.


“Come on, Troy, at the same time as you, 8:00 p.m.,” George said. 


“How do you know what your Daddy does after 8:00 every night? And what about your Momma? Does she go out at night?” Troy said.


“No. That I’m sure of; she’s a homebody,” George said. 


 ***


The Reverend arrived, and the media coverage was extensive. People opened up their homes to those who needed places to stay until the funeral was over. That’s how the many stories of the dead and the missing came to light, and every name of every child, man, and woman who had been killed, beat up, raped, or disappeared was compiled into a single document. The reporters gathered, started talking about the stories of the people they were staying with, and discovered there was a lengthy list of the dead, missing, and raped and beaten. 


Everything died down again, but the story soon surpassed Montgomery, Alabama.


When the mayor's elections came around again, there was no campaigning; this time, there was a push for a black mayor. As the election ended and the ballots were counted, the former white mayor and the former white sheriff stood on the platform in front of city hall—this time on the losers' side of the platform. The men stood before the town with their heads hung low and faced the town's people in shame.


The people sent a clear message with their votes. They elected a new sheriff and a new mayor. The men of colour stood with their heads held high, knowing they could pay the former mayor and sheriff for what occurred under their watch without penalty or fear of reprisal.


The newly elected mayor looked down on the two men, turned to his people, and said, “I forgive these two men, their evil trespasses, as the Lord doth forgive me of mine."


The sheriff spoke next. “Gentleman, and I use that term loosely, during your incumbency, I wished for nothing more than your justice to be inflicted on you—but it didn’t happen. Now, I’m in a position to do to you what you did to my people, but I’m not that kind of person.” 


The two men bowed their heads. 


“On my family’s lives. I'm truly sorry for all the pain and suffering I've caused,” the former sheriff told the people. I chose to do harmful things over my family life and the well-being of my family; I won’t make that mistake again.”  


"I have one last request for you two," the mayor said.


"What's that?" the former mayor said.


"Name it," the former sheriff said.


“I have a yoke with both your names on it, and I’d like you two to come here every day for the next two weeks. I’ll place you in it every morning as a reminder of the terrible atrocities that have sullied our town. Anyone who chooses to have a crack at you will get their chance.”


The people were pleased as they clapped and cheered. White and black people stood together and breathed a sigh of relief. Then, they got to know one another as they stood in the streets of Montgomery and shared their stories.


***


“I never knew your Daddy was so big before. With those cowboy boots on, he looks big and tough, too,” George said.


“Yeah, I think so too. I never knew so many people wanted to take a crack at your dad. I’m sorry about that,” Troy said. 


“It’s okay. Ultimately, my dad chose his family above all else,” George said. 


“George, maybe racism will be ousted from this town. Maybe our town could even be an example for others. What do you think?”  Troy said.


“Wouldn’t that be nice---for a change?” George said.


***


“Daddy, I want to invite a friend to dinner and a sleepover. Is that okay?” George said.


“Who is it? Troy Sampson? Yeah. I’m fine with that. He’s welcome here anytime," George's Daddy, Montgomery's former sheriff, said.  


**(AP) — Three former Memphis officers were convicted Thursday of charges of witness tampering in the 2023 fatal beating of Tyre Nichols, and two were acquitted of federal civil rights violations in a death that sparked national protests and calls for broad changes in policing. Take a look at the story. This is a clear example of abuse of power at work and remains alive and well in the South. Shameful.


October 01, 2024 02:06

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7 comments

Trudy Jas
16:28 Oct 10, 2024

Lily, I see you already saw that Jon used AI. You may want to leave your comment on his story. You may be writing to a computer. :-)

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Richard Morris
22:14 Oct 09, 2024

To me, the story featured familiar themes and no plot twists. The story described generic characters as "negro” and "white" instead of "black" and "white" with individual qualities. That alone made me date the time to a hundred years ago. It's clear that some effort went into crafting the narrative, but I think it needs more originality.

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Lily Finch
22:54 Oct 09, 2024

I thank you for your reply. I shall take that under advisement. However, concerning your comment about plot twists and originality, we greatly differ in our thoughts. 1. I thought if the boys talked about what only happened in their homes it would demonstrate people believig what was most important. 2. I thought Troy's father's preaching and uniting the black folk were also important to the story because Troy was wired the same way, and his core beliefs were the same as his father's. Even when his father was killed, he welcomed George int...

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Alexis Araneta
16:46 Oct 01, 2024

Great take on a historical event, Lily ! Great work !

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Lily Finch
02:08 Oct 01, 2024

Okay, this story is not typical for me. I would like vital feedback and critiques. Thank you.

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Unknown User
00:06 Oct 10, 2024

<removed by user>

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Lily Finch
12:07 Oct 10, 2024

Jonathan, I took the time to write this story without AI, so the least you could do is respond without AI interference to assist you with your comments. Especially when they don't make any sense if you read the story. I don't mind getting critical analysis, but it has to be exact and meaningful, not generic and cut from an AI source. I don't know what's worse: you posting your comment without acknowledging your obvious use of AI in your response to my story OR using AI to respond without reading the story at all. it is too bad writers...

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