Color of Life

By Romanda Brown

Intergration in 1964 was not a matter to be taken lightly. Claire Williams was one of many living in Montgormery, Alabama who was not ready for such a drastic change. However having faced an indescribable, horrifying crime, Claire was forced into a world she did not understand or even want to. Throughout the questionable journey she inevitably confronts the teachings of a racial nurture in order to protect the most important value in time - life. Will the teachings of a corrupt background impede the right to an opportunity for a rightful existence? Or, will maternal devotion prove grandeur than the outstanding outcome derived from pure abhorrence?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: May 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469164915

Romanda Brown

Romanda Brown is a 32-year-old African-Canadian single mother. She was bewitched by the arts starting at an early age and has made it her mission to succeed in everything she touches. There has been crucial challenges and heart wrenching obstacles from the moment of her conception. On the other hand she has been blessed with a fiery spirit. It is precisely this fortitude that has made her achievements possible.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

(September 4, 1984)

EDWARD WILLIAMS, A young sophomore, strode down the fractured cement walkway. His feet commanded their own fate, increasing his mental imagination’s freedom to explore the environment’s natural beauty. Crevices of diverse magnitudes ruined the slab of concrete before him while the hardened veins widely searched for liberty, flowing in every given direction. The green life forms portrayed the identity of tiny alienated worms and broke free from the disturbance that caused a rift through their confinement. While their struggles implored bold and fierce determination, the journey for independence was not yet at its peak. Even though the strands of grass found salvation from the hindering object above them, the perilous adventure to redeem a vigorous pasture was soon cut short. A cool breeze empowered the environment’s inhabitants, altering the thriving green’s natural cycle into hideous, lifeless yellow strings. Ignoring the dying plants’ pleas for survival, Edward’s conscious had been abruptly captured by the portrait of a breathtaking view. He stretched his neck forward like a baby blue jay demanding his first scraps of an anxious deserved meal. Unlike the bird’s drastic hunger for food, his intentions were simple—he admired the huge maples that waved him by on either side. The attention, unsettling yet gratifying, produced an exhilarating heart-pounding importance, like soldiers saluting his coming home. The long constricted path continued to slither before his well-trained eye and beckoned his being to move on and enjoy the tour. Gritty, rundown buildings enhanced the essence of Mother Nature’s representation created in the young man’s mind. The drastic change from beauty to an unnatural poverty was shocking, but it was a reality just the same. The humble view suddenly became animated beneath the blazing, intense yellow orb settling over the vast horizon. Edward gave a small tug on his thick collar. He noticed an intense ache awaken throughout the alignment of his bones as their rigid form felt the relentless strength of the cursed winds bellowing without sentience. Chilled gusts of air continued to soar through the atmosphere, disrupting everything in its wake. A handful of gold, copper, and burnt orange leaves cluttered around Edward’s feet. Circles of flirtatious calamity portrayed in his youthful thoughts. Edward’s imaginative psyche was a blessing of an unimaginable magnitude. He often succumbed to his gifts whenever he felt a demanding situation at hand. His clownish manners and undiscovered wits eased the pressures he was accustomed to bear since birth.

Edward tried countless times to turn off his informative brain, but it was impossible to deny what was encrusted within. A part of him begged to be understood, but even Edward’s identity was denied by his own soul. Edward blocked these questionable debates and persisted on returning to his home from a remorseless, exhausting school day. Even though the young man’s physique was draped in a pair of navy denim jeans that held tightly to his bottom section, his body shivered in response to the sun’s surrender. The thick oversized pullover hugged his torso with an immense heat but did little to protect his entire frame.

As he hurried along, the black shoulder bag swung freely by his side while he kicked his golden suede Timberlands through the mess that kept swirling past his boots.

Coming to the end of the road that led back to his college dorm was a pleasant arrival. His keen observation revealed an entrance to an alley, shortening the distance to his home.

The tall, masculine youth grasped his milieu to assess if an immediate danger lurked within the route. After moments of contemplation, it was his opinion that it was safe to move forward. Edward’s feet carried his existence through the short stretch laid out in front of him.

Caught within the grasp of an earlier trance, Edward persisted with his mental designs of visual displays. His dark brown eyes seized an old edifice further beyond. Its facade, a cluster of red, rusty bricks began to decay and crumble. The fading luminosity uncovered the mold that hid in seclusion beneath the cracks of the scanty frame. The entire landscape was a sad spectacle to behold. Moreover, the weeping willows added a touch of melancholy to the despairing scenery. To some, it was nothing but a frail, pitiable neighborhood, but to Edward, it was more than that. The scenery had a voice that pierced the soul. Poetry flowed from the portrait that cried out in loud tones. It mesmerized his spirit. It soared to a depth that many could not even begin to comprehend and many others wouldn’t even dare try. While the young man inhaled the bold, picturesque, live presentation, something stirred in the pit of his core. He could not decipher the fundamental nature that loomed within his entity—an ill disturbance that moved his emotional self-control in a remote way. What’s wrong with me? he questioned in silence. Nothing quite perplexing loomed from the visualizations in particular; therefore, it was a mystery as to why there had been such an abrupt shift. His large hand rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to relieve the stress that cramped his muscles. He stood there briefly frowning and then continued his dialog in the seclusion of his head.

I don’t understand why it must always be this way. Every time I surrender to the importance of a new emotion, I am troubled by something surreal. A deep-rooted sigh left his slightly parted mouth.

Unable to focus his distressed thoughts, he pressed forward, desperately trying to dismiss the unsettled sensation that claimed his center. Almost immediately, Edward perceived a huddle of louts seated at the entrance of the corroded building. Instantly, a jolt of anxious sparks circuited downward through his vertebrae. Mixed with the prior unexplainable disturbance devouring his serene mood, a storm began to brew. He could hear the gang to his left. Their rowdy conduct appalled him; it was fear-provoking. His understanding of the overwhelming streak of nerves that impelled him was misguided. He clearly did not like the estranged sentiments the boys aroused throughout his fragile spirit. Tormented and desperate for pure air, he progressed through the alleyway, looking for an exit in case an escape was essential. His attention had been captivated by a fence that stood nearly six feet tall. The metal wiring barricaded the entire right side.

What the heck am I going to do? I need to get out of here. I need to just  . . . Edward’s mind was a lethal rush of adrenaline. It clouded all reason, all natural instinct. He felt trapped between the buildings and the sky-high enclosure. There was no possible outlet. His heart began to race out of control. Edward’s slightly pronounced forehead moistened with clouts of apprehension. Momentarily, Edward could not contain his unspoken angst, but before he could commit himself to being made a fool of with a show of hysteria to an undeserving audience, he caught sight of a narrow entrance, big enough for a small automobile. Shortly thereafter, his entire body began to melt, he being dissolved with the delusions that began to manifest without haste. Knotted muscles began to relax, and bouts of oxygen were eagerly swallowed. He used his wrist to wash up the residue of a profound instant. The mounted pressure began to stabilize, and he quickly reformed the humorous tranquil mood he constantly tried to maintain. His dark eyes swiftly swept the area in hopes he had not attracted any unwanted attention, and then he swiftly hurried past the group of young Negros.

Edward was completely overtaken by the weight of an intrusive gaze. Building with each second, the progressive anxieties forced themselves upon his delicacy, violating his wholesome nature. Slowly, he pivoted and glanced over his shoulder. Unpleasantly surprised, his glare unveiled five young men staring and snickering in a distasteful way.

One man in particular had his flabby finger pointed toward him. His dark features seemed to have lightened when he caught Edward peering back. A pair of jolly cheeks rose as his thick lips began to form a broad smirk. Edward sensed that the grin was not a welcome but something creepy and twisted. The uncanny smile had a troubling hypocrisy written all over it.

The heavyset individual stood up and headed over to Edward’s side. Well, well, well, what do we have here? He encircled his prey as he hissed his poisonous words. Edward’s sensitive intuition anticipated the trouble that had begun to cultivate. He tried to move past the menace and quickly made his way toward the escape he had noticed earlier on.

Deacon suspected Edward’s rude, hurried manner and placed a foot in the young man’s way. He blocked him from fleeing the scene.

Clyde, a slimmer fellow, followed his predecessor. Upon his arrival, Edward caught a glimpse of his attire. The intensity that enveloped the soiled ambience increased in dark tones and complicated variables. He had a passage decoded in bold black letters spread across the front of his shirt.

Concerning nonviolence, it is criminal to teach a man not to defend himself when he is the constant victim of brutal attacks.

Edward had seen the words before. It was a quote from Malcolm X during the civil rights movement, something he had studied about during his history class.

The youth tipped his black-and-white New Yorker cap and whistled at the light brown-skinned boy trembling before him. Hey, you deaf white boy, jack off one too many times. You don’t hear when ‘God’ is speaking to ya?

Laughter echoed through the air like crashing thunder. The rest of the group decided to join in and make themselves useful. Like a wild pack of vicious dogs, they foamed at the mouth, anticipating the right to break free and lash out.

Flustered, Edward tightly gripped his bag while trying to weigh his alternatives. He delved into the deeper, most intricate parts of his mind and searched for an outlet that would serve this awkward theatrics, but nothing would comply with his efforts, so he figured that a cool approach may have been his best option considering the circumstances.

Sorry if I came off as being rude, but I honestly didn’t think you were speaking to me. Your comments seemed to be directed to someone else, seeing as I ain’t white. I think anyone in my position would have been dumbfounded. So you can understand the confusion I am thrust to endure. It is quite a dilemma, no? The tremors in his voice were easily caught as he tried to amuse the gang, unsuccessfully, or so he thought.

The leader of the group, Deacon, applauded. His widespread sneer enlarged, revealing his crooked ivory teeth. The picture resembled the quaint view of the decomposing building behind them.

"Wow, our own Fresh Prince of Bel-Air, with a touch of Rastafarian, right here in the hood! You think you funny, boy?"

His crew started to curse insulate lyrics but cut it short once Deacon turned and flashed a frenzied look. Aggressively, he snarled at his followers. Instantly, his attention returned to the slim, athletic frame. A potent stench of anxiety arose from his victim while he sized him up. The immature man, who wore his weight like a gigantic rubber suit, indulged in the fresh scent of panic. His normally ruthless soul relished in good spirits that evening, so he decided to cut the kid some slack. His hands moved together in a circular motion as he spoke to his second-in-command. He and Clyde went way back. They were best friends, but more than that, they were like brothers.

Hey, Clyde, give the guy a break. He firmly placed his hand on Edward’s shoulder and stared him down, a pressure that cemented his body into place.

Look, maybe we got off on the wrong foot, huh? Maybe this here prince was sightless to the sign, seeing how it’s getting dark and all.

Awkwardly, Edward grew confused. He couldn’t contemplate what the heck the smart-ass guy was rattling on about. What sign? He didn’t see any marker. Had he missed something vital? His facial features spoke in his place as his eyebrows crossed. What sign?

Deacon removed his pudgy hand from its nestled region and stroked his goatee. He glanced over to his friend, Clyde, and let out a small chuckle.

What sign he asks. See, an honest mistake, he hadn’t seen the feature. He returned his contravene gaze to his prey. Since your humor is quite amusing, I will leave Lucious the honors in explaining what we’re talking about.

The young hoodlums sputtered a drum roll introduction before the infantile black male answered.

Drrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Lucious raised his hand. A veil of silence spread over the agitated crowd.

You see, this here alley belongs to one sole proprietor, none other than Deacon, aka ‘God.’ So the sign reads as such: ‘To honor God’s presence, you must pay to enter Deacon’s shrine.’

No matter how Edward suffered earlier, he couldn’t bring himself to maintain a serious attitude. The words that rang through his ears drove all maturity out the window as he bent over with harmless laughter.

Ha-ha! Sorry. I am sooo sorry. He slapped his hand over his mouth. He excitedly tried to cover the heightened emotion that rushed out without consequence. I don’t mean to come off as impolite, but you got to admit that was cute. I liked it, though, but unfortunately, I think I will have to honor his shrine some other day, since I have nothing your  . . . ahh, ummm,  . . . king would like. He continued to chuckle inoffensively.

Deacon’s comical expression faded. Something dark and prominent awoke in its place. His round, livid eyes burned a hole in Edward’s untainted essence. His words, a round of live ammunition, spat out in hostile matter. Where the fuck do you come across mocking the likes of me, you punk ass, ho? You think this is funny? The only thing that’s worth a laugh here is the fruit sundae dazzled with a pair of my suede Tims.

The young adult felt the heat rapidly mount as the swarm of negative discharges suffocated the still air. Hold up! I meant no disrespect, but like I said, I have nothing of value.

In the same way that the sunset had deserted them, so did the humorous introductions. Its appeals had been interchanged by the wickedness of the murky presence that had descended upon them. He dreadfully scouted for a means of escape. His braids lashed out through the air as he spun on his feet searching for a diversion, a distraction, anything seemed good at that moment. Suddenly, Edward recalled the entry he had viewed on his path. Slowly, he backed away from the vicious party and tried to excuse himself. How about I just cut through this access and I’ll be on my way? No hard feelings, okay? We can all forget about this huge misunderstanding and just call it a day. Cool?

His shoulder bumped Lucious’s huge frame. An excruciating pain throbbed instantaneously through the alignment of his bones, but he tried with great effort not to pay attention to the burning sensation that hastily began to broaden. Sorry, excuse me. Edward’s nervousness heightened at an immeasurable speed.

Deacon’s face burned with a ferocious fury. I have a better idea. Excuse this bitch. Get ’em, boys!

Clyde reached out with his long arms and pushed Edward to the ground. He fell with a hard thud. Deacon wasted no time and pummeled all his heaviness into the limp body as he kicked the light-skinned man violently. After a few strikes, the others joined in mimicking his actions like circus monkeys learning a new trick. Edward didn’t know what else to do but curl into a ball. His fetal position helped him evade some of the threatening blows, but most of the deadly wallops caught its target. They ruthlessly pounded on his feeble body. Somewhere throughout the harsh ruckus, Edward heard someone hacking up a disgusting wad of spit. Seconds later, a glob of greenish mucus hit him square in the face. The disgusting slime slid down his face, entering every orifice it encountered. The bitter taste caused Edward’s stomach to somersault, its contents searching for an opening to discharge. As the fluids got ready to erupt, the fists and feet that flew in every direction as recompense thrashed the secretion back into its place of birth.

His braids, like bristles from a paintbrush, damp with spit and grit, swept the filthy asphalt. Endless strikes caused abrasions to his skin and cut open his scalp. Crimson-colored blood flowed from his wounds, caressing his being and painting the ground in its wake. A beautiful painting of an angelic face swarmed through the maze he called a brain. For a slight instance, a smile claimed his hurt features.

Son  . . . Edward heard the faint whisper. It was unmistakable. Was she there? Was his essence of strength by his side? Quickly, his immaculate visions disappeared, and the dangers of the night shone through once again.

How’s that for payment, bitch? I wonder who’s laughing now, Prince. An obnoxious laughter filled the skies while a tear shimmered on his foe’s skin under the beam of the lanterns. The radiance emanating from the heat source observed the crime below with a concentrated satisfaction.

The beatings continued for a moment longer, captivating and seducing its victims.

Edward moaned with a passionate taste for survival. He intimately begged for mercy from God who witnessed such horror from the heavens above. His broken body, weak from the intoxicating punishments, slowly withered in and out of a dark abyss. His frame became numb as he lost all notion of his hellish environment. Edward desperately pleaded for them to stop, but his pleas were ignored. He didn’t know if he was going to make it through the night, and somewhere lurking in a deep dark space, he welcomed death.

Unaware of the trivial monstrosities that plagued the area, Deacon’s crew just kept laughing. It amused them greatly that they overpowered their target. Clyde saw a metal bar clinging to the fence nearby. He grasped the lethal object. Panting with undesirable gratification, he gathered his weapon of choice and raised it high above the broken body sprawled on the ground. Bringing his arms together, he dived his powerful limbs down with a pure force of evil, hoping to connect his extended wrath with the face staring back in discreet horror, but his task at hand had gotten suspended in midair.

A high-pitched shriek trailed loudly through the thick atmosphere. A blonde woman seated in her car repeatedly hit the horn. Panic flowed through the young woman’s veins as she witnessed the horror demonstrated down the path. She collected all the courage she could extract from her being and shouted out the window, Hey!

The five young juveniles that hovered greedily over their sport stood startled by the girl’s actions. They couldn’t see the intruder past the blinding soft headlights. Lucious, aware of the trouble that they would all face if they were caught, was not ready to face the night in jail and immediately fled the scene. One by one, they followed their teammate, but Deacon was too proud to escape empty-handed. He returned to the heart-wrenching site. A broken body lay before him. If it weren’t for the humble grunts or passive moans, he would have thought Edward had met his fate. The pitiful vision didn’t move him in the slightest. In fact, he was sickened by the reality of it all. Deacon was offended that the poor chap hadn’t died like he had secretly sought. He ripped off the Timberlands from Edwards’s feet and watched his lifeless extremities fall to the concrete. He then took off in search for his crew. They screamed in approval as their leader of choice shook the golden Tims in the air. A victory had been won, and he was proud to show off his trophy. Leisurely, the rambunctious force faded into the far distance.

CHAPTER 2

AS SECONDS TURNED into minutes, Amy remained seated in her yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She tried to absorb the emotions that flitted through her body. Exasperated and beyond her normal limits, Amy was an emotional wreck. Her pulse boiled beneath her pearly frame. Sweats of apprehension enveloped her being like the mist of early morning clinging to the leaflets dangling from age-old trees. The battery she had eye-witnessed moments ago disconcerted her delicate nature. Amy frantically searched the backseat for a useful tool—anything she supposed would protect her from a similar fate. Even though the appalling creeps were no longer visible, she wanted to feel protected. No! She needed to be protected. She needed to feel in control. Amy was aware that being defenseless was senseless, and she clearly didn’t want to be another blonde bimbo screaming for help right out of a movie flick. Her graceful hands trembled as she reached in the back of her vehicle. Her fingers probed the vast area, influencing her frame to lean further into the leather bench. She came across a large steel object. It was cold and thick under the soft touch of her skin. She lifted the questionable item and was relieved to see a black metal flashlight.

This will do the trick, she quietly whispered. She sat herself back in her initial position. Caressing the household weapon, she lingered into an unspoken imagination. Her light porcelain figure quickly revived itself as a continuous, distant moan harassed her mental visualizations. She held on tightly to her sole security and muttered beneath her breath, Hurry up, Amy. At this rate, the poor guy has time to die before you reluctantly crawl out the door.

She took in a deep breath and exhaled hastily while she pulled herself back together. Amy grabbed the solid flashlight and slowly scrambled her way to the individual that lay hurt along the passageway. Her hands clumsily enclosed around her source of light, pressing her fingers with all her might along its sleek body. Amy’s body shuddered with shameful fear. She couldn’t prevent the hesitation that alarmed her inner impressions. A whirlwind of calm broke out like a fever, supporting Amy’s analysis of the situation at hand. How could she be so stupid? She was all alone in the middle of a damn alleyway, trying to play some big-time hero, all the while shaking in her brown fur boots. Her bright green eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. As her pupils widened, she searched the location for anything disturbing or out of place, other than the poor soul laid out on the ground. The only subjects present were a broken man and a terrified female. She thought the poised information would help her fretfulness but all it did was worsen her imaginative thoughts. Amy’s reflection toppled in her favor, but just as a precaution, she used a firm tone of voice to ensure her status. Amy believed it would give her credibility even though she felt like she could drown in her own urine.

Okay, don’t try to screw around with me. I am loaded and dangerous.

Edward was in a critical state, but he couldn’t help but be amused. The young woman who had saved him from a tragic ending eased his pain with a humor she was unaware of. He managed a crooked, painful smile. Unless you’re the pistol itself, I think you mean armed and dangerous.

His small effort donated a lash of pain. Edward’s broken composure couldn’t handle the internal beatings he had sustained, and as a result, he began to cough in agony.

Amy smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. How could she let a crippled, wounded man take the upper hand of a horrendous circumstance? Amy realized that then on she needed to be more vigilant. She had to choose her words carefully and brilliantly.

I’m serious! Don’t think of making any sudden movements. I won’t be afraid to hurt you if need be.

Edward’s vision gleamed under the alluring glow. His demeanor was playful under the threatening circumstances. As a young child, his mother had taught him to embrace pain. She had wanted him to use the anguish as a means to strive and never look back. Edward’s mother had not always been strong and wise. He recalled how she had been coerced in believing his existence to be a blessing in disguise—a destiny that would have forever changed the corruption of a society among the weak. Memories of her purity shone through his recollection. Although she believed that she had failed him, her persistence enabled him to achieve the best out of his life.

He used his tongue to wipe the coagulated blood from the surface of his lips and continued to speak. You need not worry. I’m so banged up that the only sudden movement I could probably pull off right about now is sudden death.

Edward made many attempts to mask the seriousness of his situation. He tried to use comical expressions to brighten up the mood that had been soiled by the violence conducted within the shadows of the night, but with every effort, his condition worsened. Each endeavor turned into a fatal struggle. Slowly, he was afraid that he was losing the battle. A tear escaped his closed eyelids. He was hurt, but more than that, he was ashamed. Edward felt he had lost his way. His struggles had overshadowed the preaching of his mother’s recitals and, moreover, the teachings of an important person.

Amy crept in a little closer as the victim’s body continued to convulse. She saw vivid red spittle spattered all over his visage. She stood inches away from the trampled mass and then froze in her tracks as she could clearly see the damage done to that man. A combination of fresh welts and unfathomable abrasion covered his lifeless body. His shirt, dirty from the rubble on the floor, was covered in scuff marks. She observed him from top to bottom and gasped as she saw a pool of some liquid substance seep into the cement underneath his head. She slowly kneeled down and prayed that it was not what she had imagined.

Straightaway, Amy became ill. The horror demonstrated in the shadows of the night sickened her. She just had enough time to cup her mouth with her free hand. The taste of her lunch tickled the tissues in her sleek throat. Just when she thought the night couldn’t get any worse, it did. Her eyes