\"Writing.Com
*Magnify*
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1614595-A-Black-Summer-Night
Item Icon
\"Reading Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #1614595
This is a short story about living in the south.
"THIS DRAFT IS INTENDED FOR REVIEW AND COMMENTS ONLY. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR ANY OTHER USE IN ANY FORM"

It was an early sunny morning day, as I begin my walk from the railroad station, to the house where my mother live and works. My old home town has just woken up from its nightly slumber. I could see the egg and butter man making his rounds, as I cross the street. As I turn the corner, I could see the Ice man coming up the street in his ice wagon. I couldn’t believe the changes that the old town had made. The place is not the same, since I left ten years to the day. Gone was The Billie Bob Groceries Store, now it’s the Five and Dime Store. Across the street is a brand-new ice cream parlor and down the street was the new movie house. The old courthouse was still there, but now it’s the town library. I remember my mother working for Judge Brown as his cook. She would make his lunch and I would carry it to him at the courthouse. I would walk up the steps to the second floor and enter his office, and he would be setting behind his desk among his many law books laid out on his desk. He would talk to me about the law, as he ate is lunch, and explain to me how law was for all men. He would say to me without justice for all, there can’t be justice. Back then, I thought that Judge Brown was a righteous and fair man, but I was wrong about that. As I walk along Main Street, I find myself looking up at the new courthouse. There it was, the new house of justice, what a joke, Justice for all, but for me, and people like me justice is a nightmare.

As I start to walk down the street I heard a voice come from behind me. Hey boy, what yew doing on Main Street? As I turn around I could see it was a young Sheriff Deputy. He couldn’t have been any more than nineteen years old. As I stood there dress in my new white suit with my suitcase in my hand, I knew the Deputy could see I was older than him. But to him I was a boy. As I look him over I could see he was about six feet tall, and weight about 100 pounds. His uniform look like it was too big for his body, but I also notice that he had his hand, on his gun. I know now I was home, and I have to choose my words wisely. I am just on my way to 1875 Stonewall Street Deputy. What for boy? I am going to see my mother Deputy. Boy, yew must thank I’m a Dam fool, because there ain’t no color fokes home on Stonewall Street. I sure don’t think you a fool Deputy. Hey boy, whose is there-air suitcase? It’s my suitcase Deputy. I reckon yew lift this suitcase from a white man, at the railroad station. You wrong Deputy this is my suitcase. Are yew getting smart with me boy? No Deputy. That’s dam good boy. Now looky a-here boy, y’all gone to walk over yonder to the Sheriff Office, and yew can tell yore story to the Sheriff.

As we walk into the Sheriff Office, I could see the Sheriff had his back turn to us. He looks like he was filling his coffee cup with coffee. The Deputy calls out to the Sheriff. Looky a-here Sheriff, I got us a dam Color Yankee! The Sheriff turns around as he takes a drink from his coffee cup. I could see it was Bo James the old fat Deputy who loves to eat.  And from the look of his shirt uniform, which had cake crumbs on it, he still in love when food. Its looks like he added thirty more pounds since I last saw him. The Sheriff put his coffee cup on his desk, and said Gosh dang It Jethro he ain’t no Yankee, that Sally May boy. Bo reaches out his hand and shakes my right hand. Bless yore heart Ray. I ain’t seeing yew in about ten years. Ray, put that suitcase down, and sit a spell. Jethro, fetch Ray an RC Cola. What yew talking about Uncle Bo? Yew hear me, you redneck cracker, now yew get. Jethro stomp off into the other room
.
Ray that’s my sister boy, y’all remember Bobbie Sue. I sure do Sheriff. He’s a good ‘ol boy Ray. He just got up on the wrong side of the bed this Sunday morning. Y’all have been to see your Mom boy? No Sheriff. I was walking over to see her now, but your Deputy stop me. Ray don’t y’all worry now, yew hear. I’ll drive yew to Judge Brown house. Ray, yew sure does look like yore father Big Ray. Boy I miss Big Ray, that boy was my best friend. I know Sheriff. Y’all father was a good man. I never got chance to tell y’all how sorry, I was about what happing to y’all father. I know Sheriff. Gosh Ray how long y’all gone stay in town? Just to five o’clock today. I’ll be heading back to Chicago. Gosh dang it Ray. What y’all do in that big city? I am a lawyer Sheriff. If that don’t beat all! I knew yew was a smart boy, but y’all better keep that to y’all self, why yew in town. That sounds reasonable to me Sheriff. Y’all know what would happen, if town fokes thank yew being uppity.  I know Sheriff.

The Sheriff turns around and yells at Jethro, who’s in the other room, I’m fixin to put my fist upside y’all head boy. Jethro came back into the room with RC soda, and try to hand the soda to the Sheriff. Jethro give that soda to Ray. Uncle Bo, it ain’t right that y’all got me fetching soda for this nigger. The Sheriff slaps Jethro across the face and took the soda out of Jethro hand. Now Jethro look what yew made me do. Now if I tell y’all do something, then y’all better do it. Now get out there and y’all make y’all round, y’all hear. Jethro, took the soda back from Sheriff, and hand the soda to me and walk out of the office.

The Sheriff set down behind his desk, and he picks up his coffee cup and took a drink from it and set the coffee cup back on the desk. Ray yew ain’t here looking for revenge, are yew boy? Sheriff, vengeance is God judgments not mine. Son nobody knew who kill yore father that night. The Sheriff and Deputy got call out on a call at the Dew Drop Inn to break up a fight. So they had to lockup the jailhouse and leave yore father there alone, because I wasn’t there to watch Big Ray. Yew know that Big Ray save my life son. I owe yore father son. I would have saved him if I was here that night. I don’t know Sheriff. Ray I wasn’t here that night when Big Ray was killed. The judge send me to the Capital with paper work for the Governor, y’all knew that. Sheriff, it wouldn’t have made no different if you were here, because you and my father would had died that night. Y’all wrong Ray. I would have stopped them. Ray, Judge Brown put Big Ray in jail for his protection. Protection Sheriff! They took my father from jail and they lynch him and then burn his body in the town square. But not one person in this hick town knew who kill my father that night. Ray the Judge and I ain’t stopped looking for y’all father killer. I promise y’all that I’ll find this polecat. Now I reckon y’all ready to go see yore mother. Let me get my patrol car key, and we can go over yonder get some of yore mother good vittles.

As we pull into Judge Brown driveway I could see the white three storage Georgian colonial house hasn’t change. The wrap-around porch still had the old rocking chairs in the front of the house. The shade trees were still there the very same ones I climb as a boy with Lee Brown, the Judge son. Oh yes, there is Mrs. Brown prize winning rose garden. That woman sure does love her roses. I remember the fragrant from the roses would fill the porch with its sweet perfume, as Lee and I set on the porch steps talking about what we were going to be when we grow up. We would talk as we watch the stars shining in the summer night sky. Lee wants to be President of the United States, and I want the same dream also, but we both couldn’t be President of the United States. So I told him, I want to be a lawyer, and he would say we could be anything in America, if we work hard for it. Of course we were just kids, we didn’t know any better at the time. The Sheriff, park the patrol car and we got out of the car. Ray lets walk around back and see y’all mom. Ok Sheriff. As we walk around to the back doors of the house, I was wondering if the sheriff thinks I forgot that a Negro couldn’t walk to the front door of a white person house. I been away from home, but not that long to have forgot how to act around white southerner.

As we walk into the kitchen, I saw my mother standing by the stove stirring something in a pot. She was wearing a blue dress and a white hat and white gloves. I know that look. My mother is on her way to church. The Sheriff spoke up and says Sally May looky a-here. Bo, what I told y’all about coming in this house and making a ruckus why the Judge family is still a-sleeping. As she turns around from the stove with a spoon in one of her hand, she saw me standing in front of her. The next think I knew, my mother was running toward me saying Load a’ mercy it’s my boy. She put her arms around me and begins to kiss my face. Sally May y’all keep on hoot ‘na holler y’all going to wake the Judge. Hush y’all mouth Bo. I ain’t seen my boy in a spell, and Load knows I’m happy to see him. Mom, you got to stop hugging me so hard, before you break one of my bones. My mother let go of me and say don’t thing I won’t put this spoon up side y’all head, if y’all keep on getting smart with me boy. Now tell me how long yew going to stay here in town? Mom I am catching the five o’clock train today. Boy yew just got here. I know Mom, but I have to go back today. Howscome y’all got to go back so soon boy? Because Mom. Because, of what boy? Sally May y’all got any vittles. There a mess of grits on the stove Bo, y’all welcome to it, if y’all let me talk to my boy. Show nuff Sally May. Bo grabs the pot off the stove and as he walk pass us he ask my mom for the spoon in her hand. Here Bo, now go sit down at the table. Mom I can stay in this town. Boy this town is yore home. This here town is where y’all grew up. This town is where our family lives, works, and are bury boy. Y’all ain’t got any family up north. Mom, I only when to school up north and you know I live in Chicago now, and that’s the Midwest Mom. I see those white Yankee teach y’all how to sass yore Mom. Ray I want yew to come home, and live yore life here with your people. Mom, I was born here and raised here, but I won’t live in this dam town or any place in south. Boy, y’all better watch y’all mouth. Mom you won’t me to live with the people that kill my father. The same people that told us they did know who murder my father. Son the town folks ain’t kill yore father. Some redneck did. Not all the white town folks like that boy. There good white folks, like the Underwood that share their food with us, when yore father was sick for three months, and don’t forget the Harper, who share their home with us after Ku Klux Klan burn down our home. What about Judge and Bo that keep the law in this town. Son yore farther and I taught yew judge a person for what in their heart and not their color of their skin. Good and bad people come in all colors son. If the white town folks so good, why can’t they find my father killer? I reckon they will son, in due time. Now Ray, I’m on my way to church, and I want yew to come with me. Mom, you know I don’t care about going to church, and listing to some preacher telling me how I should love white people, and pray for them to see the light of justice, beside Mom I am hungry. Boy, I want yew come to church, to see where yore father is buried. Yew left home before yore father was place to rest and yew ain’t been back since. Beside boy, I don’t have time to cook yew breakfast now, we be late for church. But, I do have time to tell yew, that yew got let God in to yore heart boy, before Satan take over yore heart and fill it full of hate. Bo spoke up I take y’all to church Sally May for mess of sausage and eggs, and a hunk of cornbread. Bo, yew just ate a pot full of grits. Y’all keep eating like this and I got to let yore pant out again. Sally May y’all know I love yore cooking. Well Ray, go on and sit down at the table with Bo. I reckon I get start it making y’all breakfast.

"THIS DRAFT IS INTENDED FOR REVIEW AND COMMENTS ONLY. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR ANY OTHER USE IN ANY FORM"
© Copyright 2009 BadWriter (acolbert13 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1614595-A-Black-Summer-Night