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.
seekeroftruthweb 
The matter-of-fact tone of your story makes it even more horrifying than it already is. Cruel and heartless people, and racists like them are still around. Good, thought-provoking story.
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Oh how sad!
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Dear Kevin,
Tragic commentary of the time. Nicely done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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That’s so sad. It’s just evil that such things went on.
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That went bad pretty quickly. Shocking ending, well written. Kinda hope that sort of thing doesn’t happen anymore, but sadly prejudices still exist.
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