|If Crooks had A Voice
Author: justanotherfanficaddict PM
Crooks reflects on his short and bitter life.Rated: Fiction K - English - Hurt/Comfort - Words: 723 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Published: 06-11-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8207453
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I'm just a cripple. Just a nigger. I vaguely remember childhood, warm and sunny and happy. A slideshow of shots- a smothering bearhug from my mama, my papa, teaching me to fish, playing ball in the sun with the other kids, swimming in the river… It's not like that now- 'a free and equal country' they say. I say its not 'free' and 'equal' when a fellow like me cant open his mouth and say what he wants. When a fellow like me isn't allowed to sleep in the same room as the other men BECAUSE MY SKINS A DIFFERENT COLOUR.
Don't you look at me like that. I know I'm bitter. Abused and segregated all my life because of the colour of my skin. What people these days don't understand is I weren't that different to any of the white man. I coulda worked worked just as hard and learned just as much and there aint no difference except my skin is black and theres is white. All those things I could of done, all those opportunities wasted. It makes me want to laugh. Or cry.
Now I'm older I just make the best of a bad deal. I work on the ranch as a stable buck. Yea its lonely, but I get by. I have my own little room next to the animals what no white man is allowed into. I have my books and my rights and a comfortable exsistence I spose. Guess I'm luckier than most men like me.
It all kicked off round here the other day. Two new workers came, one of them is crazy as hell. He came into my room. Like I said, no white man has any right to be in my room. They're just not welcome. And I told him, clear as could be, but he didn't move. He jut stood there. (This is going to end in trouble, you mark my words- if he cant follow a simple instruction like that…)
"You get outta my room" I tells him but he stayed. Just chattering about these rabbits he wants. Geez. I never seen such a dumb bastard before. He was annoying if anything. And I hated the way he was more respected than me. Least I could talk sense.
So I baited him. "Spose George went into town and you never heard of him no more," I says.
You could watch the emotions flit across his face. Apprehension, then disbelief, then anger. I a twisted way it pleased me to see his inner conflict. A small victory of power from the suppressed minority. I wanted to dig deeper.
But I forgot. This guy aint only crazy, he's strong as a bear. And when he gets mad, he's as ferocious as one too. Lucky I saw the danger in time to intercept.
Then Candy comes in. That damn fool shoulda been canned years ago. He's a gossip and a nuisance. Worst of all – he dreams. Dreams are worse than any plague. Their dangerous. They drive men to self destruction. So tangible, but just out of reach…
Ha. And hes got this new one. Some farm or something. Ha. They're all the same. They cant see that they will never make it One night in the cat house turns to two, maybe three. Before you know it theyre skint again. Them ranch hands is all the same.
And that bitch. That two faced tart. Suddenly she was here too. 'Looking for Curley'. Ha! We all know what shes really looking for.
It was strange to be surrounded by people. My little room filled with voices. For a moment I almost didn't feel alone. For a moment I forgot how cruelly insignificant I am to 'the mighty white man.' Pah! The conversation turned sour because of that damn whore. She's a bully. She makes me feel sick.
I told her to leave.
I shouldn't have done it. It wasn't my place to say. I coulda just left it. I should never have let them in in the first place. I forgot myself. I am nothing but a crippled old nigger. I hate it. I want to die.
Soon it was just me and the books. Again.