''Secret Room''A Story by Will Neill A young negro boy growing up in the 50's is a victim of life changing events. His story tells of racist hate, muder and abuse. But yet through it all he becomes a man with the help of his secret room. ‘Secret Room’ Somewhere in my dreams there is a place were a young boy lives, a secret room that only exists because I let be so. I never tell anyone about it, but sometimes I go there. *** It was the winter of 1952 when my older sister Katy died, from about August that year she took to being very poorly Momma called it consumption, but now I know it by its real name, Tuberculosis. Doesn’t make a fine bit of difference what it was called it was mostly poor folks like us that primarily suffered from it. God help me there was nights I had to cover my ears with my pillow to drown out the sound of her crying. In her final days she was so weak it ended up with Momma just watching over her holding her hand while she sucked in air and spat up blood. I was glad when she died, more for her, at least then she was free. It’s funny how certain things just stick in a young boys head, I remember just after her funeral going to the municipal library to read up on just what took away Katy’s life so abruptly. That afternoon was gray and a light rain was drifting in from the east over the mountains, sitting inside at her desk looking just as dreary under the fluorescent lighting was Miss Edith Chambers. She raised her head up from what ever she was reading and looked at me forlornly. Our eyes met briefly, but as I walked along the rows of books totally unsure of what I was actually looking for I could feel her watching me over the top of her spectacles. Now Miss Chambers doubled up for the head mistress at my school and on every other day she looked after the library, which made my quest an even more daunting task considering she knew me and my sister Katy quite well. ‘’What are you looking for boy?’’ She hollered in my direction and I felt my butt cheeks tighten at the sound of her voice because I felt so nervous. I heard chair legs screeching across the marble ground as she stood up quickly and the thump of a large woman’s footsteps pounding across the floor wheezing her way towards my location. Just for a millisecond I thought about hiding behind a book shelf but I knew it would be futile. In an instant she was upon me intimidating in stature her large bosoms restrained behind a brown tweed jacket and her blue rinse hair pulled tight into a bun high on her head. I was rooted to the spot trying not to piss myself with anxiety when she loomed into view beside the children’s fiction aisle. ‘’Lewis Jackson’’ she said slowing to a stop, ‘’I thought it was you’’ when she spoke I could see a change in her facial demeanour as soon as our eyes met they became less threating, more broadening into a sorrowful frown. It was as if she could see the hurt in my soul and was trying hard to find the right words. ‘’I’m sorry to hear about your poor sister Lewis’’ she spoke to me in a way I had never heard her speak before, her voice was soft and genuine with sorrow and I could feel she was trying hard not to cry for my sake. ‘’ shouldn’t you be at the church?’’ she asked ‘’ why are you here?’’ ‘’I wanted to learn about something’’ I said as quietly and as confident as I could be in the face of such an intimidating large woman, but my apprehension was short lived when she did something so out of character. She moved forward and placed her arms round my shoulders, I was overwhelmed by the power of her embrace and by the unpleasant smell of her cheap perfume ‘’m y sister’’ I choked ‘’She had the ‘Consumption’’ ‘’Oh you poor boy’’ she said tightening her hug ‘I believe I have a book that will explain all’’ she took my hand and directed me to a section labelled ‘medical and physiology’ were by she selected a hardback so thick it looked like it contained the meaning of mankind from the year zero. After placing it on a nearby table she flicked through some pages until she finally came to a leaf with pictures of people in hospital beds with a headline ‘Tuberculosis and the treatment of Consumption’. For the rest of the afternoon she sat with me and helped me understand the complicated words when I got stuck. A few hours drifted by before I left for home, all of the visitors and church attendees had left and in the purple sky a pure white moon veined its light like a silken spider’s web that bled into the nearby stars just above my rooftop. Even though it was cold momma was sitting out on the porch just staring up at the lunar vision smoking a cigarette alone. When she seen me approach she smiled down and indicated for me to come sit beside her. For a few moments we just sat hushed and marvelled in the astral ballet that was being performed for us, then this big strong woman I knew as my mother began to cry with a heart so sore she couldn’t breathe. I tried my best to console her but what she needed was my Father to hold her tightly and tell her everything will be alright. Juniper hill was a small modest neighbourhood mostly made up of war veterans that were housed by the government as sort of a pay back for their dedication and service during the conflict, as you can guess it generally accommodated widows. Taking in to account not a lot of the men folk actually came back, but they, the government were obliged to stick to their promises of what had been agreed as part of the sign up. About four weeks after Katy’s internment there was a big demonstration all the way along Main Street up to the court house, although I wasn’t entirely sure just what it was about back then. But I knew it had to be important if it brought all these women out to march. It would seem as Momma explained to me later that they ‘The B******s in administration’ as she called them were trying to go back on their word and put us out to make way for better paying tenants. I guess they didn’t reckon on just how formidable my Momma could be along with the other ladies who petitioned that day. During the march they picked up an arduous amount of shouting from the bystanders along the route about how they should be ‘letting decent folk live on the Hill’’. Mind you that was rich coming from those who never had to worry about where the next dollar was coming from. Nor had a son, brother or Father get killed in the line of duty. Why didn’t they just come right out and say it, when they meant decent folk didn’t they really mean white. Momma walked at the head of the procession linking arms with the other ladies her face proud and ripe with the cold air ignoring to all in sundry those who were making their loud complaints with me dancing along with the other excited children. ‘Pay no heed to them Lewis’ she shouted at me above the noise of the cries ‘’ we are just as good as them, and don’t you forget it’’ By the time we got to the Town hall there was six police cars and three or four army men guarding the front doors. That old fat son of a b***h the Mayor Henry Longfellow who looked kind of like Elmer Fudd was hopping about on his feet real nervous and waving his arms like a scared turkey being pursued for thanksgiving supper. While giving orders the police making sure he was well protected while at the same time trying put a calm over the riotous crowd, needless to say the latter wasn’t working because it just made my Momma along with the others shout that little bit harder. About four nights before the planned protest most of the Hill tenants had gathered in our kitchen, momma had ordered me to bed around 9 o’clock but after she tucked me in I snook out onto the landing and sat on the top step. Positioning my self so as I could peer out between the banister rails at the mass of people who were sitting round our old pine table. Some were standing others were half in and halfway out on the back porch making sure they could see and hear all that was being discussed; momma was fussing around the stove getting coffee and corn bread, cookies and such like. The air was buzzing with the sound of voices and small arguments over who should be at the head of the procession, everyone knew that even though Momma was slight woman she was as head strong as any man who lived on the Hill. Taking this into account it was no surprise when Eleanor Williams put forward her name to be the spokes person. Both Eleanor and Momma had lost their men to ‘missing presumed dead’ so they had become firm friends since each had moved into Juniper. Living only two doors apart she was a frequent visitor who liked to gossip after Sunday church over a cup of Mommas renowned English tea. ‘’ I nominate Elisa Jackson’’ she shouted to a rapturous applause. ‘’ What say ye all?’’ there was a few muted groans of displeasure but most agreed with a single voice that she was the right person. I could see from my vantage point though that Momma looked apprehensive and it showed in her forced smile, but she stayed quiet and accepted the decision as she went around nodding and pouring into the anxious cups. Small talk arrangements were made by the important few over the tea she had laid out for all who attended, most when finished expressed how much they had enjoyed the ‘fine spread’ including Eleanor who was the widest woman I have ever seen in a pastel blue dress. Strutting around flaunting her fashioned straw Sunday go to church hat. I listened for as long as any boy could stay awake for even though I couldn’t understand most of what was being discussed but I went to sleep with an immense sense of pride. That morning troopers had armed themselves with pump action shot guns and stood beside their black and whites forming a narrow corridor each side of the walkway leading up to the court house. Momma gripped my hand tightly and pulled me closer to her as we made our way along singing and chanting about how ‘we shall overcome one day’’. I could see the nearer we got the more agitated Henry Longfellow seemed to become, even on this cold November morning he was sweating like a pig. On each side of the building T.V crews were there jostling for the best positions, spectators were gathering on the rooftops of nearby stores and a police helicopter was circling over head blowing up dead leaves and dust and trying hard to drown out the sounds of the singing crowd. Bit by bit and with each step forward we were being forced to the foot of the marble steps leading up to the court house, just when we could go no further the choral stopped and a deathly silence fell across the crowd, we were lined up thirty across and two hundred deep. For tense three or four minutes no one was quite sure what to do, Eleanor began to whisper to Momma and I could see her pointing up towards the now still Henry Longfellow just how to; Momma was nodding her head in agreement then began retrieving some documents from her purse. ‘’ I have my papers of arrangement here as do most of the people Henry Longfellow’’ she shouted with her southern Alabama drawl echoing off the sandstone peers ‘’ And its our intention to make sure that this town and all those who sit on this county’s court including the state governor abide by them, do you hear me sir?’’ the crowd exploded into a rapturous elation as Momma held and shook her papers heavenward. ‘’Stay here with Eleanor Lewis’’ she said to me then she began to move towards the steps and up to Mayor Longfellow who was busy fawning to the camera’s indulged with a well rehearsed speech about how Union Alabama was now a non segregated town. Maybe on the face of it but most knew that there was still an underlying attitude of invisible isolation. Longfellow must have seen her approaching out of the corner of his eye because momentarily he terminated his conversation with the T.V stations interviewer. Returning only briefly to conclude his annotations and then move to Momma who was delicately inching her way to him. A hush swept across the crowd once more as he took two or three steps with his contrite smile harboring on his face and his limp hand out stretched, Momma did likewise outta respect and removed her white linen glove. Less than a second later her head exploded; there are no other words for it,. She fell stiff and silent beside Longfellow’s feet with her left leg twitching as her life blood oozed across the marble step. Longfellow’s face was pock marked with her blood splatter and it was rapidly turning pale, and then just as he threw up the once hushed crowd erupted into a mass of frenzied screams. ‘’Oh My Lord’’ Eleanor cried ‘’they’ve shot your momma Lewis’ ’before she could speak again People began pushing us trying hard to take cover in any place they could find, behind the police cars and over by the four tall pillars. Eleanor slid a protective arm around me and ushered me past those who had decided to lay prone on the ground, ‘’Keep your head down Lewis’’ she whispered to me as we zigzagged though the islands of frightened bodies. We never heard another shot; in fact we never heard the one that killed my momma. I never saw her face again. Four Days we buried her alongside Katy, I had just turned thirteen. Needless to say no one was ever caught for her murder. The newspapers and the T.V channels had a field day with the shooting however, recordings of it were run over and over on every news station with large printed sepia pictures of her lying dead upon the courthouse steps. And that dumb son of a b***h Longfellow standing over her for weeks after, in the end nevertheless some good came out of it, if you could call it that. The president himself Harry H Truman wrote a memo to Mayor Longfellow declaring that no action of intimidation would be tolerated against black war veterans or their widows and family indicating those living on Juniper Hill should be left alone. Why he even sent us a signed copy of that same letter to which Eleanor through tear filled eyes took the liberty to read out loud in my Mommas kitchen to all who had previously been to visit that evening not so long ago. After that they made me a ward of court, Eleanor wanted me to come live with her but she had six children of her own so the state believed it would be better if I was taken to St Joesph’s boy’s orphanage run by the catholic Carmelite nuns. It was during those first nights alone that I put that fragile young boy in his secret room, a place in my mind where he could go to feel safe. About four weeks after my momma’s shooting and two weeks into my stay I got to meet Mr and Mrs Tobias Shepard. Sister Mary a saintly over sized nun with a distinct Irish brogue came to the dormitory just after breakfast and hurried me along to meet them, explaining that I could come back for my belongings once they were happy to take me. As we walked along the covered walk Sister Mary’s habit rustled and drifted with each step we took, she fidgeted nervously with her rosary beads; she had grown to care for me and I for her. ‘’don’t worry’’ I whispered when we arrived at the door that led through into the room were I was to meet the Shepard’s. ‘’every thing will be ok.’’ I said taking her hand; she knew I was lying of course. Tobias Shepard rose from his seat just as we entered, he was a tall black man with a thin face, couldn’t have been any older than about forty but life could have been kinder. His attire was less than impeccable he was dressed in a washed out navy blue suit that looked at least one size too large. He wore his shabby gray trilby hat back on his head and his brown leather boots were scuffed and weather worn. When he smiled at me his expression evolved into a toothless unshaven face. Underneath his jacket and encased within a dull waist coat his off white shirt bore ring marks of ancient sweat stains and he smelt of burnt tobacco. ‘’You must be Lewis’’ he grinned holding out his limp palm. ‘’ I think you and I will almost certainly get along, don’t you think so Martha?’’ I noticed he had fixed his eyes on me without looking to the frail woman who was sitting behind him; her head bowed staring at the floor. Her dowdy clothes were reminiscent of a 1920’s charity shop better buy rail and her thin face looked pale and tired making her complexion seem much older than she most probably was. I got the sense of fear, an aura of dread that seemed to emanate from her, so much so it filled the room. Sister Mary indicated with her eyes that I should shake Mr Shepard’s hand that hung flaccid in mid air even though she knew I was reluctant to do so, when I did his grasp was much as I expected, it felt damp and devoid of any genuine creditability. ‘’Good, Good’’ he quipped ‘’ Now lets get you home boy, I’m sure you’re anxious to see your room’’ ‘’Come Martha’’ he ordered ‘’you and I will complete the papers with Sister Mary while Lewis gathers his belongings’’ When I returned all three were waiting in the hallway, Sister Mary was talking with them but it was difficult to hear what was being said. Tobias seen me approach and decided to conclude his conversation leaving only with a quick ‘’Goodbye and thank you’’ to Sister Mary who stood tearful and troubled as she waved us off in his dirt encrusted black Chevrolet. For the next hour of driving along back roads and dirt tracks few words were spoken other than those from him that indicated his true intentions for my adoption ‘’you’re my cash cow boy! and don’t you think otherwise’’ his reflection sneered at me from inside his rear view mirror. ‘’You’re gonna work on my farm and the state is gonna pay me to let you do it’’ he laughed. ‘’What ‘a think about that!’’ I looked across to Mrs Shepard who was sharing the seat beside me for a flicker of hope but she was rendered to nothing more than a nervous mute who kept her eye’s firmly fixed on the passing hedge ways. It would seem I was alone without the prospect of any ally. The Shepard’s farm when we finally arrived was a ramshackle place of two run down barns and what looked like an old prospectors wood cabin, running around the front yard a handful of scrawny agitated chickens loitered noisily pecking at the harsh ground and a weary looking dapple gray plodded aimlessly around his coral angrily puffing out steam from his nostrils into the afternoon cold air. When we stopped Tobias ordered us both out with a grunt and indicated that we should head over to the house while he checked on his moonshine still that was percolating in the barn. When he ambled away I decided to take this brief moment that had been left to Mrs Shepard and myself to finally speak, I wanted to tell her about how I missed my own Mother greatly and how I lost my sister to an illness that consumed her completely, I wanted to express to her how I felt frightened by her husband. I wanted her to turn to me and reassure me that everything would alright and that Mr Shepard was not as malicious as he appeared and that really it was all boasting and bravado. Instead she stopped on the porch steps when she was sure that we were far enough away so that Tobias could not hear us and hissed a sinister warning. ‘’Run boy!’’ she said her voice trembling with emotion ‘’Run as fast as you can Lewis before he murders you just like he has done to all the others’’ My expression of terror must have been so evident on my face so apparent enough to raise the eyes of a woman so frightened as to always keep them lowered for fear of her own death. And in that moment our eyes meet I could see the horrors that had passed and what she dreaded would become again. She was not wrong, and I know now I should have heeded her warnings. He was and became to be all that was as evil as she described to me. In the days and weeks and years that followed up until I reached the age of eighteen and two months he worked me like a slave and as hard as any horse. In the searing heat of summer and the bitter cold of winter I was made to labour his earth with the fear of a beating or death. And yet towards the end I began to relish the thought of it, but while I was in my secret room my mothers loving voice would speak to me and make me strong, Katy would visit and I yearned to be with her, to be free of the pain just like she was. Even on those nights he came to me to take his pleasure smelling of sweat and moonshine I would go to my secret room vowing that someday when I was old enough I would kill this man. In all my life I have never hated someone so much except for the person who murdered my Momma and to god who took away Katy and left me alone. It happened but not as I expected it would, in most of my dreams I pictured myself grasping his neck while he slept his drunken sleep then squeezing the evil life from him in his stupor. Then I would run and never look back. The reality turned to be much uglier than I could have imagined. The evening began much like the others. I had returned from the field and was washing up for supper; Tobias as usual was stoned on his homemade liquor complaining loudly that Mrs Shepard should have had the food on the table. He was sitting in his rocking chair cussin and swearing and waving around his old colt peacemaker at me and promising to kill us both that night. The same one he always carried in his trouser waist band, on and on he went spouting hatred and boasting how he had never been caught for other killings and how he had fed those other boy’s to his pigs. ‘’Runaways who just never came back’’ he spat. ‘’Just like your gonna be one day boy!’’ I guess Martha had just reached the end of her suffering, couldn’t take no more of this vile mans hatred. It was then this quiet delicate woman who I had never seen or heard a word of complaint nor ever raised an eye turned from the fire she was cooking upon and threw the contents of her boiling stew over Tobias. His screams of terror and agony scorched into my very soul as he fell backward onto the cabins wooden floor desperately clawing at his face and eye’s trying to remove the roasting liquid. But yet it would seem even though he was inebriated and blind he had the sense of mind to fire his weapon. A single blast rang out above his squeals and those of Mrs Shepard who had lunged forward to complete her task with an iron poker in her hands. Both her head and the bullet met with gruesome force stopping her instantly. In the chaos that was unfolding my instincts were swift and final; the poker fell at my feet just as Martha’s body did likewise and as she died before me visions of my Momma flashed across my brain bursting open the door to my secret room. Allowing the man I had become out and gain the courage to embed the hot iron rod deep into Tobias Shepard’s left eye before he could fire again. He fell silently with a dud thump leaving only the stink of burning flesh and his seared evil brain acrid in the choking air. And that was it. In an instant it was over and I was free from pain. That night I left the farm not as a frightened young boy but as a man, that night I left my pain behind in that cabin and ran as fast and as far as I needed to. But now and then as I have grown older and found happiness sometimes when I need it I open the door to my secret room.
Will Neill 2014 Secret Room.
© 2014 Will NeillAuthor's Note
Reviews
|
StatsAuthor
Will Neillbelfast, United KingdomAboutWill Neill is an award winning Irish author, poet and amateur musician; Born in Belfast in the late fifties. Will has established himself as a prolific writer all over the world for both his prose and.. more..Writing
Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
