After reading a collection of short stories, I tried writing my own short story. Here it is:
Baseball Cards and Ham
By: Nigel Schilling
In a world where black boys are surrounded by racism and
hatred, the ability to change was always on the mind of Richard Johnson.
Growing up in Chicago, Illinois during 1961 was a rough time for a black fifteen-year-old
boy like himself. Richard lived with just his mother in a small house near the
city. His parents divorced when he was about ten, and his brother went to go
live with his father down south in Memphis, Tennessee, while he lived up north
with his mother. After the separation of his parents, he lost contact with both
his father and brother, whom he loved very much. As he started to approach
adulthood, he wanted to set out on a journey to find his brother so they could
both move out to California, where they would be “free” from racism, or at
least, that is what they thought.
Richard has short black curly hair, that was very shiny, and
always smell really good mostly due to the fact of all the hair products put in
his hair. He was starting to develop a short little Afro, because it became a
very popular hairstyle in his neighborhood. All the black men in Richard’s
neighborhood had Afros. He wanted to get one, because he always wanted to “fit
in.” Richard always wore the same clothes everywhere he went. He wore his
favorite white color shirt, with his brown church pants and suspenders along
with his only pair of rusty high top original Chuck Taylors. “You look like a
fool wearin’ those old raggedy shoes around with your best church clothes on!”
his mother always told him right before he walked out the door. She always
lectured to him, before he would leave the house, about how all white people
are bad people, and that they were not be trusted, or even talked to. “I don’t
want to ever helping a white man out. If he ain’t done nothin’ for you, you better
not do nothin’ for him.” Richard always nodded his head, and agreed with his
mother. You never wanted argue against his mother, because no matter how right
you are, you were always wrong. “But Momma,” one day he asked, “What should I
do if one of em’ white kids take a swing a me?”
“You better punch ‘em the hell back!” she responded in
vulgar tone. This puzzled Richard, because his mother told him to avoid
violence and act with peace, and to use your words to solve your issues.
Richard didn’t like to be violent either, because he always cared for people no
matter the color of their skin. As he was growing up, he began to question his
morals and what was morally right and wrong and how to act against a corrupt
society. Civil disobedience is a moral weapon in the fight for justice. “But how can disobedience ever be moral?”
he asked himself. Well, l guess that depends one's definition of the words. In regard to what is morally right or wrong, which is to
be preeminent? The law or one's own conscience? The whole idea of fighting for
justice among black people was going through Richard’s head a lot as he headed
down south to find his brother. Richard always wanted to do the right thing,
but how was he if he lived in a society where he was not treated equally. Despite
what his mother said, Richard never really judged a person by their skin color,
but rather by their personality. Even though his mother disliked white people,
Richard continued to live his life as if color had no part of it.
One day when Richard was walking home from
school, he stopped by the local corner store, which was on his way home, to
pick up some groceries for his mother. It was the only store in his
neighborhood that sold the special ham his mother always cooked. She asked him to get one on his way back
from school. This white man named Billy owned it. He was known in the
neighborhood, because everybody went to his store to go grocery shopping. Richard couldn’t go through the front door,
because there was a big sign that read “White Only,” so he went all the way to back
of the store where the colored people could enter. The store was split into two
sections. The “White Only” section where all the fresh products were stored and
the “Colored Only” section which was much smaller, dirtier, and the quality of
the food there wasn’t as good as the ones for the white people. Richard hated
going to Billy’s store, because he hated going into that store and being
treated badly by the white people. He would always much rather go to the store
farther away owned by this black man, but they only had his mother’s ham at
Billy’s store. Richard could never make a trip to the store without either
being spat on, kicked, or yelled at by the white people that were around in the
store. Richard had to hurry up, because he had to get back home soon, because
his mother was expecting him at five o’clock. So he rushed and got the ham, and
went to the checkout line. Once he bought the groceries, he started to run
home, because his mother would spank him if wasn’t on time, and he hated those
almost more than he hated going to Billy’s store.
When he was running down the street, he accidentally bumped
into these three white kids that he’s seen hanging around Billy’s store a few
days ago. He knew he was in trouble, because he knocked all the baseball cards
out of one of the kids’ hands, and their faces turned quickly with anger. Richard stopped. He was terrified. He was so
scared that he didn’t want to look at their faces, so he just started at the
ground.
Above is a picture of the three white kids
“Damn nigger! You just gonna look at ‘em?” said one of the
white guys. He was around Richard’s age, maybe a little older, but he was big
and had some pretty big arms for a kid his age.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was—” Richard said as he was
stuttering with fear.
“Pick the damn cards up. I don’t wanna have to ask you again
nigger!” said the other white kid. The third one then spat on Richard’s shoes,
as he was getting ready to pick up the baseball cards. He ignored it, and
continued to pick up the cards. He knew he had to be careful, because he was in
a white man’s world, and whatever they wanted him to do, he better do it. Once
he was done gathering the cards, Richard handed them back to one of the kids as
he was still on the ground. As he was about to get up, the kid with the big
arms kicked him in the stomach, and Richard fell to the ground and dropped all
the cards and his groceries. From that point on, he knew he wasn’t going to
make it home on time.
“You dropped them damn card nigger! Pick ‘em up boy!” yelled
the kid who kicked him. Richard didn’t want to get into a fight, but he was
getting ready to punch of them. Not so he could get beat them up, but rather so
he could run away from them once he did. Richard laid on the ground in pain, as
three white kids were laughing and calling him dirty names and making fun of
him.
“Please. I gotta get home. My momma is expecting me. Please
let me go,” Richard begged.
“Boy, you ain’t going nowhere until you pick my cards up!”
responded one of the kids. He then punched Richard in the face causing him to
fall to the ground. “Pick my damn cards up nigger!” he yelled as Richard was
aching in pain. He tried yelling for help, but the more he did, the more they
kept punching him. Richard laid there until he had enough strength to stand up.
He then began collecting the cards again, and when he handed them to the guy
with big arms, he punched him in the face, and started running. The two other
boys went after him. They were fast and caught up with Richard. One of them
held him as the other kept punching him in the stomach. By this point, Richard
was bleeding and crying. He kept trying to beg them to stop, but they
continued. The kid who Richard punched then came over slowly to where Richard
was. He was still being held by one of the other white kids.
“Hold ‘em tight,” the kid with the big arms said as he
pulled out a switchblade. Once he got over to Richard, he said, “You shouldn’t’
of done that nigger. Now you gonna have to pay!” The white kid stabbed Richard
in his stomach, and then the three white boys left leaving Richard lying on the
ground covered in blood alongside the ham he got from Billy’s store. Nobody was
around. He tried calling for help, but he couldn’t. As time was passing, more blooding kept
coming out of his stomach. Richard wasn’t going to make it back home. He would
leave his mother wondering where her little boy was. She would never know what had
happened. Richard began to cry and look up into the sky as he breathed his last
breath. It began to rain.
Above is a picture of Billy's store
