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Rated: E · Fiction · Fanfiction · #1222839
different ending of To Kill a Mockingbird 4 class. To Kill a Mockingbird c. Harper Lee
"Jem!" I screamed.

No one answered.

I quickly got up from the ground and stuggled to break free from my cumbersome costume.
Slowly, painfully, the chicken wire in my ham costume broke apart, enabling me to leave my
costume behind.

I heard the sound of running feet. Whoever's feet those were, they were heading towards
my house, and fast.

Against my better judgement, I decided to follow them.

Swiftly, I ran. Panting, I reached the front door of my house, and swung the door open.

Upon entering, I was swept up by Aunt Alexandra, who told me to hush. I had no choice but
to do as she said.

"Jean-Louise, I need you to be quiet for me right now. There is a strange man in the house,
and I need to call the authorities" Aunt Alexandria whispered.

"But what about Atticus?" I protested.

"He'll be alright, child. Now hush!" she replied.

Against all of my will, I sat there, observing as she contacted Eula May, the town operator.
I could sense a thick tension in the atmosphere. Each passing second felt like an eternity.

Worst of all, there was no sign of Atticus.

I longed for a sign of him, some kind of confort. My eyes looked around the house, hoping
for him to somehow appear. Then, I heard footsteps again.

Hurriedly, a man came down the stairs, followed by Atticus. A closer look at this man revealed
his identity. He was Bob Ewell.

Aunt Alexandra gasped at the very sight.

I stood there, immobilized by it all. I was so shocked I didn't even notice Mr. Ewell approaching
me and Aunt Alexandra.

Aunt Alexandra froze, apalled by Mr. Ewell's stale whiskey scent.

I stood there, looking at Atticus, who suddenly seemed so old. In that moment, the gray hairs
in his head were increasingly noticeable. The creases and wrinkles around his eyes gave him
the look of a tired old dog. I had never seen Atticus, who was always so bright;so worn and
faded.

"So what will it be, Atticus?" I head Bob Ewell say, glaring at Atticus as if challenging him to
a duel.

Atticus was silent, but calculating. He did not remove his gaze from Mr. Ewell.

I saw Mr. Ewell's eyes dart nervously around the room. His hand made its way to his pocket,
taking out something heavy and shiny. It was a Lueger.

Atticus eyed the Lueger wearily, his eyes examining every inch of the gun.

Bob Ewell raised his arm, and pointed the Lueger at me.

Aunt Alexandria gasped once more.

For a second, it seemed as if the entire world had ceased motion. There we were, frozen
in time. I was standing, Aunt Alexandria was behind me. Bob Ewell was still pointing his
gun at me, but took no action. Atticus seemed still, yet I knew his mind was working at
its fullest.

Motion returned and I felt the thick tension in the air grow thicker still. My eyes shifted from
the floor to the Lueger in Bob Ewell's hand. I saw his hand shaking. Did he dar kill a child?

A shot rang out and I felt something push me to the ground. Whoever it was, they were
heavy and unmoving. Soon, I broke free from my motionless captor--and wished I hadn't.
On the ground, completely immobile, lay Atticus.

His body was positioned strangely, resembling an injured bird of some sort. The fine silver
threads of hair he had amongst the black ones stood out more than ever. Blood trickled
on the floor like a slow, steady river.

If I didn't know better, I'd say Atticus was asleep. His eyes were gently shut, making the
wrinkles around his eyes even more conspicuous.

The next day, I found out that Mr. Tate, the local sheriff, had caught Mr. Ewell and put him in
jail. Jem's arm had broken, but at least he was alive. Aunt Alexandra would be raising us from
now on, for we had no one else to go to.

The whole town seemed to buzz with talk about the incident. Miss Crawford, as always,
claimed to know all about it.

I could not erase the events of last night from my memory. It was so hard to accept the fact
that Atticus was no longer with us. In an instant, Bob Ewell took him away from me, never to
return.

This wasn't like some two week trip Atticus would take from time to time when called to court
in the defense of some faceless stranger. No, this time he would not come back....I knew it.

The following day, at the funeral, everyone we knew was there, paying their respects. Tears
flowed down my eyes as I gazed at my father in his casket, who would be put to rest soon.

Jem held my hand and said "It's going to be okay, Scout"

I nodded.

'But would it really be okay?' I thought. The resulting events from the trial came all too quick,
almost like an avalanche. First, Tom Robinson was shot, then Jem's arm got broken. Then, he
took my father.

Days later, I was to find out that the Lueger that Bob Ewell carried with him that night was
stolen. It belonged to Judge Taylor.

Bob Ewell was charged with both murder and thievery, plus breaking into Judge taylor's house
in order to steal the gun, not to mention the unauthorized use of firearms.

These charges, undoubtedly, would affect the Ewell family as a whole, for better or for worse,
I did not know.

All I know is that Bob Ewell robbed an innocent man of his freedom, stole a righteous man's
gun, and soon after broke a boy's arm. But the worst crime he committed was to kill Atticus,
who was both father and defender of Tom Robinson, an innocent Negro. My father stood for
what was morally right, did his job and never hurt anyone. Bob Ewell, on the other hand,
shot an innocent man and all he had to say about ut was "makes one less N----r lover!"

In the end, only one thing remained clear. My father had fought and died for his cause like the
bravest warrior. He fought for justice in a world where it did not yet exist. Atticus's murder
made Bob Ewell a sinner before the eyes of God for all eternity. After all, it's a sin to kill a
mockingbird....
© Copyright 2007 Christell Goebbels (goebbels_star at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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