Margaret walked along the wooden pathway on this nice afternoon in the 1950’s. She had found the perfect man, and tonight they were heading to New York to get married.
That night John and Margaret met in a field. They kissed. Suddenly John felt himself being pulled away. “Daddy, what are you doing?”, Margaret asked.
“We don’t mix with their kind!”, her father replied.
The father bombarded John with racial slurs as he and a group of men dragged him to a tree, where they lynched him. They then burned a cross in the field. Margaret cried.
This is a post for Friday Fictioneers by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, with the photo provided by Adam Ickes.