Sackcloth and Ashes

1960's KKK meeting & KKK murder.

 

Bravely he dared to take his child to see what ignorance looked like in the flesh. Was there flesh or unearthly demons hidden beneath bright white hoods? Anonymous men pranced in the flickering glare of a bonfire in the moonless night. The wicked cross, never again a holy thing, was aglow with the Baptist minister’s promised brimstone. The surrounding woods  ghostly lit, the rounded hard steel cars reflecting fire, parked everywhere in straight lines like a simple drive-in. They were putting on a show, like a movie after all, weren’t they? With wide eyes and nose pressed against the window, my breath came fast and hard, to form innocent condensation that I wiped with lily white hand.

It terrifies me now, to think how close I stood to the oozing maggot-eaten decay that a clean white word like ‘prejudice’ fails to convey. This one-dimensional word sits on dictionary’s page and doesn’t kick ribs and thrust bitter blades into human flesh, then stand there smiling, self-satisfied.

Virile Nubian youth, simple gift to man and wife, a near-man of sixteen, had chastely kissed his date goodnight, they say. It was by chance alone that he was who chose to walk the railroad tracks whistling a happy tune, they say, at ten p.m. as the others hid, these white pillars, with hard-ons of anticipation, before they circled like hounds of hell determined to make a point. It was a warning, they say. Later no one squealed on anyone.

 

“There’ll be crosses burned in yards.” Even spoken softly his low voice rumbled. “Let’s hope there won’t be one in ours,” he whispered and Mama didn’t move or speak. There were times he’d been able to help, been more closely involved, and no one guessed, she knew. His sapphire blue eyes barely hid horror laced with shame, and with wide eyes I pressed my nose to the window to watch for the burning crosses he said would be there that I still see in every campfire’s glow.

© 2007 C. Harter Amos

Reviews

[Pema Dorje]

the arrogance of ignorance and differentiation; Hearts do not differentiate ... you've penned a picture of wretched hatred and horrendous inhumanity, all based on fear ... by your pen we are made more aware to choose with discriminating Wisdom and follow the fearless Heart to undifferentiated Love ... writeous write

[Nick Erickson]

Prejudice, your right, so clean upon the pages of dictionaries, books and white paper.
Amazing and sad how hateful people can be over a fact as little as the color of skin, a belief, a life style...

Very good piece, mixing truth with burned in "memories" we should all carry with us.
Prejudice should be next to hate, sickness, deplorable and in the meaning of "war".

[Lydia Shutter]

Brutally sad, exceptionally powerful...another write with a message in every line. The definition of the word "prejudice" can be read over and over again, but this story deciphers the essential quality of of the word. wonderful work. Lydia

[Jonathan Bryant Dean]

Well written, and very picturesque.
Nice Job bringing this picture to us in written form.
JBD

[Michelle Ross]

This is a very strong piece of writing! You have done an excellent job of conveying the emotions involved witnessing such a heinous act. I do believe that this piece could be expanded into a short story, or with more work a novel even. However, it is great just the way it is so the choice is entirely yours whether to expand it or not.

[Bubo]

It terrifies me now, to think how close I stood to the oozing maggot-eaten decay that a clean white word like �prejudice� fails to convey. This one-dimensional word sits on dictionary�s page and doesn�t kick ribs and thrust bitter blades into human flesh, then stand there smiling, self-satisfied.

A very strong piece. One that sickens from the pain of such a vile condemnation, and your imagary giving it such force.Thank god society today is more diverse.

[Rev. Gomez]

You are really able to convey the emotion of this piece. Your word choice, for the most part, is ideal for the feelings expressed.

There are a few areas where you could cut some unnecessary descriptors. "It was by chance alone that he was who chose to walk the railroad tracks..." Now, it's just me, but I feel like a few words could go without hurting the piece, and that may help as well.

There is alot of anger, fear, and sadness in this piece. I also seem to detect the subtlest twinge of pity or empathy? I feel like you are looking at these bigots and sort of feeling sorry for them, but obviously not condoning the behaviors...

Maybe I'm wrong, but if not, perhaps exploring the empathetic approach would be worth a look? Maybe this could add another layer?

Good work. I like it.