The Books that Never made it

Charlotte's Web

***WARNING, THIS SCENE CONTAIN'S HISTORICAL VIOLENCE AND RACIST LANGUAGE.*****

(AUTHOR'S NOTE)

For those who are reading this, don't be offended by the content that goes along with this scene. I have no intention of supporting the words or actions, but to be cautious of them. I've felt inspired to write something like this for a long time. It reflects the racism that happens in day to day lifeand things like this do happen even today.

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          There was a sense of freedom as I walked across the hot golden sand that glittered in the terrific hot sun and went between my toes. I looked down at my hand that clasped David’s. The spaces between his fingers fit mine perfectly as our arms were entwined and my head rested on his shoulder.

It looked odd, our hands molded together. It looked like an Oreo cookie with his pale fare skin against my deep ebony chocolate. It was odd all together for us to be together at all; walking down the hallway being bombarded by ghastly looks from students in the hallway as they raised an eyebrow at us questioningly, but David wasn’t like that. He saw past the dark skin that seemed to be all that everyone saw. He saw the other colors, the true colors down beneath, like I did him and we loved each other the same. It was tough for us, the both of us, but we pulled through. We had to show them we were stronger than that.

          “Where are we going?” I asked.

Even though I stared down at the ground, I could feel him smile. “You’ll see.”

          We walked in silence for a few moments longer, just in each other’s company. The sun started to fall down towards the horizon and the sky began to fade to a light pink, the clouds like cotton candy in the late afternoon sky.

          “Here, we’re finally here.”

I lifted my head from his shoulder and gazed out on the beach. “What? What’s here?”

David pointed out around the corner where there I could barely make out a picnic blanket with what looked like a little basket and a small candelabra with three unlit white candles.

          As we walked closer I couldn’t help but put my hand over my mouth and gasp, watching as David galloped in front of me, waving me over. “Come here.”

          “This is—you did this?” I asked dropping to my knees on to to the blanket, tossing my flip flops to the side.

David nodded proudly and sat cross legged on the ground rooting around in his pocket for a lighter; quickly reaching over and lighting the candles, a tiny flame dancing on the tip of the wax.

          “A picnic on the beach, why not, eh?” he said opening the basket, reaching in and bringing out two plates wrapped in plastic wrap.