She gripped the rim of the porcelain sink and tried to steady her hands
“One last time,” she whispered to herself.
One. Last. Time
Before the banging came on the door and startled her. This has been going on for 10 years. 10 years too many. She wanted out, She needed out. By any means necessary.
“Get out here,” his angry voice projected through the door.
She jumped again at the sound out it.
“Just a minute,” she yelled while taking one last look at her bruise covered body in the mirror and adjusting the object in her mouth.
Opening the door, she was greeted by the slap she felt time and time again. So used to it, she was now numb to the feeling.
“What took you so long,” he grabbed her, “you think you leaving me?”
With her head down she whispered she was just getting fresh for him. Walking over to the bed, she felt his eyes on her so she put an extra sway in her hips before lowering to her knees and waiting for him. He had conditioned her to be his submissive.
Standing over her, she felt him pat her head as if she was a trained dog before laying on the bed and saying, “good girl, you may please me now.”
This time she would be the one pleased in the end.
Climbing on top of him, she began kissing him slowly while rubbing him just the way he liked. When she saw his eyes close she knew it was time to make her move.
Leaning in to place a final kiss on his neck, she slid the blade between her teeth and swiped as hard as she could tasting the blood in the process.
His eyes shot open as he clutched his throat attempting to stop the blood. She began laughing hysterically as she sliced his body over and over with the blade now in her hand. His body and hers were drenched in blood, but with no movement coming from him she knew she was free.
Free from the beatings and mental abuse.
Closing her eyes she felt at peace. Peace that ended at the banging of a hand on the door.
Opening her eyes she was back at the sink clutching it to steady her hands.
I just want the world to know my name like Basquiat or Kara Walker
Minus the graffiti and silhouettes
Stun the world with abstract visions until they think I’ve done my best
Then tell em I ain’t done yet
Putting my paint brush down for a pen
Creating message after message
Planting seeds to help my people win
Because you see,
One day on common ground we must all meet
It’s enough out here for everyone to eat
We not the crabs in the bucket
We’re the Kings and Queens
With the heart of the lion and lioness
Broken free from the chains
Destined for greatness
Like the ancestors that left writings on the walls
Our actions will do the same for those next in line
And after I’m gone and my many greats say my name
It’ll be followed by words such as this:
My many many Great-Grandmother was an artist. She created abstract visions that stunned the world like Basquiat and Kara Walker. Minus the graffiti and silhouettes of course. When she wasn’t painting she was writing. Some would describe her as woke and others would say passionate. A conversation with her was always full revolutionary topics and funny jokes, but at the end of the day she was for her people and the people are for her. So when I say her name, I say it pride. Be a use of her, I come from greatness and now the world knows her name.
Elijah McClain was a 23 year old massage therapist. Everything I have read about him screams gentle. On his lunch break he would play the violin for the kittens in the pet shop next door. He ran in barefoot running shoes because he felt it was more natural. Many of the runners I’ve spoken with in the past have voiced similar things. He was anemic and could be found even in the summer time wear layers of clothes and a runners mask due to being cold. That I can also find true because I have a son that’s anemic. He taught himself how to play the guitar and violin. HE TAUGHT HIMSELF! So what could he have done that would’ve been so wrong to cause him death?
Summary of what I’ve read about his death…
Police received a call about a person acting suspicious flailing their arms and wearing a ski mask. The caller also reported that he didn’t appear to be a threat and did seem to have a weapon. So basically an unnecessary welfare check? How did that in turn lead to his death?
When officers arrived, orders to stop were not responded to. Why was that? Because he was wearing headphones! He couldn’t possibly comply if he did not hear the orders. Once he did notice and proceeded to turn down his music to hear, it was too late. The feeling of “disrespect” had already been planted. Now a need for authority had to be shown.
For 15 MINUTES the officers had him in a hold that applied pressure to his carotid artery. For 15 MINUTES he begged, pleaded, and even complimented the officers. All to no avail. They still applied pressure to the point he began to vomit. Then EMT’s gave him a shot of ketamine (sedative) because he was determined to be “agitated”. Who wouldn’t be? Then to make matters worse, the dose he was given was for a 220 LB. man. Elijah weighed 140 lbs. This lead to him going into cardiac arrest not once, but twice before later being declared brain dead.
I am sadden, I am heartbroken, and I have shed tears for this young man that did not deserve what has happened to him. I’ve seen pictures and watched the video where he was filled with happiness while indeed wearing layers of clothing as friends and family described. I also can’t help but to wonder again, how many others we still have not heard about. Especially when Elijahs life was taken almost a year ago and we are just now hearing about it. WE NEED JUSTICE FOR ELIJAH NOW!
William “Froggie” James was a dashing young man. Tall and dark with a body full of muscles. Many women wanted him, but he only had eyes for his Sandra. They had been together for some time now and would be getting married soon.
Walking down the streets of Cairo, IL, he was filled with such pride. Black people had come a long way, but still had a ways to go. White folks still had a short fuse just looking for someone to blow up on. He made sure to steer clear of them when he could.
As he came upon a building, he heard a scream. Something told him to keep walking, but it was a woman and he didn’t want to leave her helpless. As he got ready to go inside, his friend Alexander came barreling out, almost knocking him over and continued up the road. Venturing inside he saw feet from someone on the ground that eventually revealed a young white woman. Fear filled him like never before and he dashed away from there.
Once he made it home, he slammed the door as his love came out of the kitchen.
“What’s wrong,” she rushed to him when she noticed the look on his face.
“I found,” he struggled to get his words out, “white girl dead.”
Sandra felt a chill come over her, “Did anybody see you?”
He merely shook his head no.
“Good,” she started to pace, “You didn’t do it right?”
“Of course I didn’t,” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
“We have to get out of town.” She started gathering their belongings.
William frowned, “I did nothing wrong!”
“You think they care!” She shouted.
Just then loud knocking came at the door.
“Come on out William,” they heard the voice of the well known sheriff.
“I didn’t do it,” William said as he opened the door.
The sheriff had been kind to him many times.
“People say they saw you running away from where a girl was found dead,” the sheriff pulled out his cuffs, “It’s better for me to take you in now before anyone else comes after you.”
William took a look a Sandra, “Stay here and don’t let anyone in.”
Tears fell as she watched them drive off. Dark clouds hung over the town. Destruction was coming.
Just as the sheriff was booking in William, a mob had formed outside. They were demanding that William be released to them for revenge.
Not knowing what else to do, the Sheriff snuck out the back and drove William out of town. He hoped to stay there until things calmed down. That never happened.
In the middle of the night, they heard rumbling where they were hiding before seeing a group of men.
“Hand him over Sheriff,” one of them said.
Before the sheriff could grab his weapon, they had him at gunpoint while others dragged William away screaming.
He was dragged all the way back to town, “Please! I didn’t do it!”
His words fell on deaf ears. That night the town seemed to destroy William and whoever else they could unleash their rage upon.
See as there was no getting through to them he yelled, I did it and Alexander took the lead!”
He knew the right person would hear the message in his confession.
William was dragged through the town square as people hit him and called him names. In the center, there was a noose tied around his neck as not the men, but the women pulled the rope. After he was hung, his body was riddled with bullets before the people cut pieces of his body for souvenirs. Then as they were finally satisfied, they placed his head on a light pole and set it on fire.
With all this going on, no one noticed Sandra standing in the background. Filled with rage, she embraced the ways of her ancestors. Her grandmother had taught her many years ago that she would know when to use her special gifts.
Calling on her ancestors, she placed her hands on the ground, “Ancestors, feel the innocent blood spilled here today. The blood of my love. He did not deserve this and neither did the ones before him. I declare today, until all wrongs are righted, there will never be peace. For as long as innocent blood is spilled, these streets shall forever crumble. Take the peace and take Alexander.”
The streets shook as a scream could be heard in the distance. That scream belonged to Alexander being dragged away before the mob even thought to look for him. Sandra walked off into the night away from the town never wishing to return. Now cracks fill the streets of the town and no matter how many times they fix them, they still crumble.
Note: Cairo, IL. is my hometown. Although I put a twist of love in the story, William “Froggie” James was an actual person that was lynched for the murder of a white girl there in 1909. Many of us resident have been taught the story. He maintained his innocence and just before his hanging, he admitted and said a man named Alexander helped. That man was never found. Many say that because of all the bad that happened there, the streets are cursed and indeed are filled with cracks no matter how many times they were fixed.Let me know your thoughts in the comments as if you have heard of this story. I hope you like the sprinkle of love and fantasy I placed in it.