lynching by fire

Date: 9/9/2019

i was a black man living in the early 1900s. whichever state i lived in was not a good place to be a black person. i knew assault, harassment and even murder were prominent. whites were too stuck in their own arrogant views on the world. i drove my car through my city. it was a soft light green car that looked like a time from the 50s. i noticed a man in a white car seeming to follow me. i didn’t wanna take him home to where my family was, home wasn’t an option, and the police would feed me right back to him. i calculated my options and decided to lose him and make a run for it. so that’s what i did. i lost him momentarily by making a sharp right turn, he drove past me. i parked very badly to the side of the road and ran out of my car. i was at a small street which had a wharf to one side of it on the ocean. it was full of little crevices and hiding spots. i ducked down somewhere and watched the mans cars drive up and down the street off from where i turned. in my mind i was praying he wouldn’t find me, though my prays were not to god. eventually i felt i lost him. suddenly the tires screeched by, the headlights more daunting than ever. a young boy about 8-10 years old ran from the headlights, illuminating him. he was very dark skinned with a shaved head. kind looking, i could picture this kid in another life smiling and playing with toys as white children did. it hurt my heart. i knew i needed to help him, it wasn’t even a decision i just did it with instinct. i yelled to him to come to my hiding spot. giving away myself in the process. i grabbed his hand and ran with him mostly carrying him. i wanted more than anything to save him. i saw my son in him. we ended up being captured and i’m not sure exactly how but with numbers and weapons what were we to do? we were taken to the home of a white couple. they were having a dinner party. the night was dark but their house was lit up by yellow lighting from the people inside. me and the boy were hung by our wrists to a pole resembling a guillotine. i felt so angry the white people were doing this to us as their own sick entertainment. they were having a dinner party to this? how are we the inhuman ones. i felt abandoned by god. the same white man who captured us stood in front of us grinning , about the magnificent “game” he caught. fucking sadistic. he reminded me of the man from “the most dangerous game”. his white car stood behind him shining back the yellow lights. he struck a match and smiled. he held it to the clothes on my hips and my body began to be consumed by fire. the young boy had tears all over his face but was making no noise. we went up in flames together. never to see the world again. white people watched us burn happily. my car was to remain at the wharf, tho not literally forever but figuratively... forever. i could see the green car... along the oceanside; rotting.