The winter breeze encouraged Michael’s body forward as he strolled down the pathway, his face determined. The dull thuds of his leather shoes echoed throughout the silent street, the dusty windows of the apartments watching every step. The tall brick giants towered over on either side of him, each separated by the dark lines of the alleys. The sky was like the shallow water of the coast, bright, with the afternoon sun gazing out in the horizon. The thirteen year old hugged his oversized jacket, the warmth of the sun, a mere candle. Michael smiled. His body tingled with thrill and excitement as his mind pictured the great scene. The huge mass of people, the shaking of hands, the empowering speech, the shouts of agreement and deafening applause. Mr King for President? Absolutely, amen, Michael thought dreamily. He glanced back to an empty street, only a crow perched on a nearby post-box. Everyone must be there already, Michael thought. He realised the approaching grey clouds behind him, urging him on. 

“The speech will be at half past three at the capitol.” 

When he had heard the news at the gathering, his passion for change burned fiercely. Yet his mother’s thoughts clashed with his.

“It’s too dangerous! Don’t you remember what happened to Emmett Till? Let the adults protest. They don’t need kids around.” his mother had explained back at the apartment.

Michael had dismissed his mother’s worries and snuck out unnoticed. Mr King was coming here, to Montgomery, with thousands of people from Selma marching with him! Mr King! The man he admired most. Michael also had a dream. He wanted equality in all areas, including education. He was sick of hearing white teenagers bullying him and his friends about how terrible his education was and making crude comments of his skin. Michael wanted to be a part of the thousands that supported Mr King and he wasn’t going to miss the speech. He quickened his pace down the path, readjusting his flat cap in the process. Suddenly, the faint sound of voices reached his ears and Micheal stopped in his tracks. He recognised the voices to be male and came from the apartments to his left. Maybe some latecomers, he thought. It would be great to have some company. As the voices became clearer, a flicker of doubt crossed his mind. What if it’s – His thoughts were interrupted as two white adults appeared out of an alley, fifty metres away. They instantly saw him and their mouths shut to form wicked grins on their pale faces. 

Michael ran. 

His heart pounded against his chest as he heard the fast footsteps behind him, getting closer every second. Fear was running beside him when he took a right turn into one of the alleys desperate to find someone on the other side of the apartments. The narrow alley was unwelcoming as the filthy smell of decaying rubbish reached his nostrils and the nest of crows squawked, taking flight as he ran past. Michael heard the men behind him laughing as they chased after him effortlessly. Tear swelled in Michael’s eyes as he imagined the end result. But maybe he had a chance. Maybe there was a group of his own in the next street. Maybe there was hope. 

He was wrong.

To his horror the end of the alley was blocked by a brick wall. He spun around facing his two pursuers just metres away. Michael desperately banged on the closest door near him screaming for help. There was no reply. Michael’s heart sank as his pursuers approached. Both looked to be their mid-twenties, casually dressed, slim and their ghostly skin haunted him. He didn’t want to be the next Emmett Till. He screamed for help. No one replied.

“Tried to run away did ya,” the first one said with a devilish grin.  

“He’s probably going to that ridiculous speech,” the other scolded to Michael. “Well, not anymore.”

Suddenly, a man appeared at the entrance of the alley, noticing them. He was older than Michael and shared the same skin colour. A glimmer of hope shone into Michael’s soul. 

“Help me, sir!” Michael screamed waving. 

Michael caught a slight flicker of fear in the eyes of the two white men as they stopped advancing to Michael and quickly turned their heads to see the newcomer. But was already gone.

He left me.

The two white men burst out laughing, mocking the cowardly man as they regained their confidence. The last sparks of hope died inside of Michael. Fear had killed courage, despair replaced excitement and his will to live controlled him. 

“I wasn’t going to the speech, I swear!” Michael cried as the white men refocused their attention to him.

“Is that so?” sarcasm poisoned his throat. “May I ask, have you ever heard of Emmett Till?”

The conversation ended.

Michael laid on the cold hard ground. He silently gasped for air, each time more painful than the last. He tried closing his red rimmed eyes hoping it would lessen the pain, but it was agonizing. The white men left, leaving Michael with bruises all over his body, a gash across his face and several broken ribs. He wanted to shout for help. He wanted to scream. He wanted to live. He didn’t want to die. I’m not ready. Please, Lord help me. Please. Crying, his tears watered his final resting place. He was cold, but the sun was covered by the dark clouds and the chilling breeze was unmerciful. The doors that stood closed continued to stay silent. He heard the wings of death flutter down and it’s claws landing lightly near him. I don’t want to die. Michael forgot about the speech, the protest and his dream. He breathed his last. He just wanted to live.

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Timothy Xu is a high school student studying in Epping Boys High School in Sydney, Australia. Coming first in English out of his whole grade in 2019, this local Vegemite eater likes to read and write various genres of fiction in hope to hook and engage his readers with his short stories.