Emmett Till is one of the most forgotten but inspiring stories of all time. This is a first-person aspect of this aspirin Emmett Till is one of the most forgotten but inspiring stories of all time. This is a first-person aspect of this aspiring story. Some back story. Emmett Till was an African American boy who was brutally murdered by 2 white men at 14. While visiting family, he helped them work in the fields. After work, he, his cousin, and his cousin’s friends went out to buy a coke at a store called Bryants. He went there and he was accused of whistling at a white female leading to his death. The white males, who saw/heard him whistle, abducted him a week later at night and killed him shortly after. This is a short story on how it went down. Note I did alter the story a little to be more detailed. I put it in a first-person type narrative. This is the Story of Emmett Till
Every day I walk down The street and every day I get stared down. One moment of weakness can change a life forever. I had a job that day. I would pick cotton for hours to get some extra cash. It was tiring work and I would often go home sweaty and exhausted. I was making a penny change and would have to work ten times harder than my white co-workers and get less than half their salary. It was my first time working on the fields and the last. “Hey, Emmett!”Rev said,” Hurry up I’m going to Bryant’s with some friends, let’s go get a coke on me” Rev. Wheeler Parker, Jr was my cousin but he was like a brother to me. He told me he was going on a vacation to do some work in Mississippi and visit some family in Mississippi. I decided to ask Mom to go but at first, she didn’t want me to. It took some convincing but finally, she said yes. So we hung out a lot. It was just me and Mamma back then. Mamma’s never been the same since Daddy died. My father was a very angry man and was always hitting me and mamma. He joined the war, got caught beating us, and was hanged. Mamma was sad about that and never really talked about him. She was never really the same after he died. When daddy died Rev was there helping me and mamma. Me and I have been through thick and thin. So Rev and I walked up to Bryant and I was getting this real feeling I normally get when I am being stared at. I get stared at a lot nowadays. Every white man and woman always stares at me like I am a monster. So when I looked around and saw a white woman staring at me. I decided to whistle. I figured I was funny back then so I decided to whistle at her since she was eyeing me down. I didn’t know that would cost me my life. Unexpectedly, everyone with me got up and ran. I instantly got up and started to run, not understanding why. When we got back in the truck no one said a word until we all jumped I was very confused. When we were far out of the town I asked them why they ran. “Yo Emmett,” Rev said, “I can’t believe you did that.” I asked what I did wrong and he said “This is the part of the country where people would kill over that stuff”… He was right. Back in the North, where I lived, people were racist but never did I get in trouble for catcalling someone. There was a car following us that was on our tail since the town. I figured it was no big deal but saw the white men I had seen in the store. Suddenly I felt terrified. We made it out of town so I thought we were safe.But when they caught up with us we all jumped out of the truck and started running. Eventually, after running for a while, the chasers gave up so I figured we were safe. The next few days Rev was on edge but after a while, I kinda forgot about it. I told everyone not to tell Grandpa. I figured he would get upset and didn’t want him to be mad. On a cold night after about a week, the men came to our house in the middle of the night. I heard the front door open and hid under my bed waiting and praying they didn’t find me. At first, I didn’t know who or why they were there. But then I remembered what happened the week before. All I could think about was how Grandpa must be so confused and scared. Grandpa had no idea. Then I had strong hands yanking me out of my bed and clamping around my neck and head. A bag was placed over my head. The cold night air didn’t matter. I have never been so scared in my life. Strong hands squeezing and trying to pull me out of my bed while I kicked and screamed. I heard rev screaming but my ears were muffled by the bag on my head. Then something really cold and hard hit me on the side of my head and all I saw was darkness. I woke up in pain. Pain no one should ever feel. I never screamed so loud in my life. I felt like they were cutting chunks of my face making my head feel like 20 bees stung me at once. I started kicking but the hands were strong and held me down and eventually started punching me back. They started hitting me over and over until it got too much to bear and I just stopped fighting and let them. The next couple of days were hell. I prayed for everything to be over. There is pain everywhere. Nothing felt real, I knew I was hurt badly. but couldn’t focus on anything besides the pain, all I wanted was for it to be over. I couldn’t see my eyes were so swollen. After 3 days of beating and hitting me, the men dragged me down to a river. I knew it was a river because of the sound of the roaring waves crashing on the rocks by the riverside. I knew this would be the end. They beat me till my head felt like cardboard floating in a sharp barbed river. I screamed until my throat felt like it was bleeding then screamed some more. I never cried ever not even when Dad died but I found myself pleading with the strangers and crying my head off. Then I stopped and everything came back.I had flashbacks of simple moments in my life, like being untreated for half my life, like how people looked at it every time I went to the store. I was limited to using certain restrooms, certain barbers, and certain schools. I saw Mamma in her dress that she wore every Sunday for church. Then I saw myself. I was above looking at the unrecognizable young man under me. I was beaten so badly I couldn’t recognize myself. Then I saw God. He was reaching out. Telling me it will be okay. In the end, I couldn’t see or hear. I knew I was messed up badly. I felt my ear, eyes, and nose getting smashed and my head getting bashed over and over on a rock. Then someone took out a gun. God reached one more time. And I took his hand. Then there was nothing. Just black. I finally got my wish. They put me out of my misery.
Emmett passed away on August 28, 1955. He suffered from A headshot wound and was badly beaten in the face, arms, and chest areas. His Murderers were given a trial and found not guilty. Later they confessed in an interview to the murder. They boasted about his death. The lady that he whistled at allegedly didn’t have anything to do with his murder. It was over 68 years ago but his story will live forever. His death sparked one of the greatest civil rights movements the world has ever seen. Emmett Till was a sad story of injustice and prejudice. He should be remembered and honored. May Emmett Till rest in peace. May his story serve as a reminder of the progress we made 70 years ago. And may his story never be forgotten and be taught for years to come.
Image: https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/americanexperience/features/biography-emmett-till/
