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