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The Hoodoo Nigger "You ready? Stop all that crying, Will! Bring your tail out that bathroom and stop stalling! Take this here hood and gloves and put it on! Well, well. Why son, you look like the bogeyman." Daddy laughs. But it doesn't make me any more ready for what he wants me to do later. I wonder…Were the other kids going like me? You ever wonder why I wore gloves at a picnic? Once ago, there was this Hoodoo Nigger who started to put these strange notions in Niggers head. We wanted to show those Niggers how much magic he had. He wanted Coloreds to have their own stores, schools and vote in elections. One night, after we—the Klan, lynched the “Hoodoo Nigger,” something awful happened. A Klansman suffered as a result of it. I won’t say his name because I don’t want you asking folks about him. What Daddy will call him for you is The Red Man. He was the one who was in charge of getting souvenirs off of Niggers’fingers, ears, and toes and … After he cut off the ding-a-ling, his hands changed color and never turned white again. He washed and soaked his hands in bleach and even dipped them in lye, but that blood stain never wanted to wash off. Sometimes his fingernails bleed, leaving a trail of blood wherever he walked. If he was asked about his hands, The Red Man would tell folks’ stories how he his hands changed colors due to fighting with a wild Beast while hunting. He claimed the Beast came sneaking after him from out the bushes, growling. He told folks it had long, thick, hairy legs with a head like a cow. He described the Beast’s smelly odor as being akin to arms pits after a day working in tobacco fields. Blood stained teeth and a thick red slime covered his snoot and mouth. I guess he just had a late dinner (what kind of fool does he think folks are?), and whatever that Beast ate before was dripping from each side of his mouth. Acorns, twigs, branches were all tangled up in his mangy hair. We knew and so did others folks did that he was lying. The Red Man created this tale of a wild Beast attacking him. He told folks when the thing jumped on him he balled his hands into tight fists and fought the Beast with all the strength God gave him. Folks who didn't know better believed him and won their sympathy. Saw him as a hero for keeping that ugly animal from coming into our town. Folks wanted to make The Red Man Mayor, build a statue in the town’s square. What people didn't know was that he was the ugly Beast he told folks about in his story. After The Red Man gave up on going to the doctor for help, he sought out a Gypsy known to sell beauty lotions on the outskirts of town. Carts with ringing bells rolled down hills carrying merchandise from across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. Embroidered rugs were hung over racks, besides blue and green silks tied to poles. Herbs and spices were sold in jars. Leaves would sway and trees grew apples, tangerines, and lemons in the midst of the strum of an Egyptian guitar. They set up camp and unloaded by the riverside. Sea gulls swarmed over the water. Folks from all over came and stood in front of tents, waiting to see what the peddlers would sell. A week’s earnings handed over for trinkets by farmers, carpenters, and handymen to the Gypsies. Those Gypsies sold all kinds of things, some things never seen in here in Darlington. The Red Man returned to Darlington, a day after everyone else. We all stared and wonder if it was really him. He looked like a leopard. Half his face was riddled with burgundy spots from a Gypsy potion he bought; it just spread the red color on his hands to his entire face and body. The townspeople told him to leave—we worried he might infect someone. He cried as he left town; it rained for days on end with his wailing, like a faucet was turned on us and left running. We feared the river would over flow into the crops. One week of rain was a year’s worth. For a week, we waited for the sun to return. A shadow hung over Darlington. The Red Man rained on us with his crying. It was heard and felt through Darlington. Leaves crinkled and fell off Oaks. Coyotes, wolves ran out the woods; sparrows flew to escape the hollering. How it sounded like? Like an echo you hear go through a cave. Even after the crying stopped, his moaning rattled for days in our heads. The beautiful chirps of a mocking bird, the roaring engine of trucks, and children outside playing caused headaches. Folks began to travel on foot, tip toeing on dusty roads, rather than stir the nauseating engines of cars. Horses stayed in their stables, for the hooves, clomping on roads caused an immense headache for its owner. I saw him in the woods, The Red Man dancing with coyotes and wolves. Fingernails like a pencil, he left scrawled notes on an Oak tree. “Bring me food." Chicken, cows and pigs were left by a tree. Howls bellowing up where Angels laid sleeping on top of clouds—they were awakened and annoyed by his crooning. Thunderbolts fell setting the forest ablaze. We hoped it killed him. We hoped to find him sizzled and eaten away by the fire. We hoped to be free of the trouble he brought to all of us. The Red Man lived. He was the shadow of Darlington. Lightning struck our most sacred building. We stood at the edge of the ground where all we saw was a hole stuck by lightening. What you see today is a remodeling of the old church. I thought the lightening took it and reckon it is still up there somewhere. Folks thought it might come when it started to rain again. It didn't. For a while, I remember I kept looking to the sky to see it fall somewhere on us. People in neighboring towns wanted to run The Red Man out of our woods. That was when we decided that it was best to solve our own problem. The Red Man was one of our people, and no way were we going to let a neighboring town clean our mess. I heard a row of cars honk outside the house. Cars filled with folks, cheering as they headed down to the picnic. I went to the gypsy market and got a special potion. Me and two fellows from town tracked The Red Man for two days before we knew where to leave the poisoned basket of food. After three more days, we went back and found him dead on the edge of the forest, like he’d been running out the woods to find help. His eyes were bucked, one hand over his heart, one hand outstretched in a cry for help. He was found dead—thin and red. Later on, life in Darlington became normal. The T- Model Ford car was turned on again. Children ran around, rejoicing to be outside. And people stepped out their homes for the first time in days. # So, this is why we wear white gloves and hoods at picnics, so we wouldn't get blood on our hands and end up like The Red Man. You never know what a colored got inside of him. In the North, newspapers tell folks we need to be stopped. I want you to walk anywhere in the world, and nobody knows what you done. When you get your souvenir, you won’t get those pretty white hands dirty. No...you just can’t watch. They talk about you just as bad as the folks who gamble and drink on Saturdays. Now stop all that complaining, especially, after I promised you a new pony. Daddy thought I was being ungrateful. Now, let’s get going. Just think of it like we were cutting the head off a chicken. Oh, I can just see how folks in this town would stop and say you are just like your Daddy. How proud I would be! Today is just the first of many, Will. When you get older, the ladies will wave when they see you and wish they could walk with you down the aisle. That is how I found your Mother. The fear of going left me. Besides, I knew kids from my fifth grade class that was coming, too. If they weren't scared, then why should I? I put my hood on and went to the picnic with Daddy. I will be fine as long as I wear these gloves tonight. Guess it was just a flight of butterflies. Like a performer’s stomach jumping and spinning before the great performance. It happens whenever anybody steps on a stage and crowds of people are watching. The Imperial Wizard Will stood up from his desk, trying to focus on what he was put in charge to do later. He kept replaying the day when he and his Daddy went on their first picnic together—his father died that very night. After they returned home, his father sat quietly in the pickup truck. He could hear his Daddy’s heartbeat as they drove along the dust road home. They didn’t find the Hoodoo Nigger and something wasn’t right. Once they returned home, Will went up to bed, while his Daddy started howling at the moon on the porch. In the woods, the wolves heard him and howled back. Will Daddy went running to play with the animals in the wild. His body was returned home butt naked— with a blanket thrown over his corpse. While Will prepared to dress—he unhung his white robe and hood from a hanger. He placed the hood on, fidgeting with it to go over his head. Will saw a murky image of his father beside him in the mirror with eyes that scare a rattle snake: "I didn't raise a sissy, boy. Look at you. You need to be ashamed of yourself. Wearing a Klansmen’s robe when you know you ain’t earned it. They should call you Willow, like a flower. And you expect folks to respect you? Shit…No wonder they called you a sissy in school. Your Ma always said she wanted a girl." Will removed the white robe and went to the closet. He draped himself in his father’s old purple robe, which was folded neatly in the old family chest. He placed the hood over his head and felt a surge of energy flow through his arms, hands, and scrawny legs. A soldier decorated for war. The closer to the time was to go the wailing noises stirred in his head. Bootleg whiskey was swallowed, but he still heard chatter in the back of his head. To block out the chatter Will turned up the volume up on the Zenith radio; a popular song was playing, Happy Days are Here Again. The song’s lyrics brought enthusiasm. Will dance around his bedroom, skipping to the song’s rhythm. On top of his bed, he retrieved a long sword that was wrapped in a towel. The sword had a sharkskin handle, lion head & metal scabbard decorated with an American Bald Eagle. The thirty- inch straight, double edged blade was etched with a cross on both sides. The pommel, guard, languets, and scabbard were polished to perfection until it could reflect a clear image like a mirror. For weeks, he sharpened the blade and practiced using it by slicing the throats of pigs, skinning rabbits, cutting heads off chickens, watching them run headless in the barn. Will tested the blade’s sharpness, by taking his index finger and rubbed it against the sharp iron edge. Blood spilled down the long metal blade. He sucked the bleeding finger, licking the blood like it was wine before he bandaged it. He placed his gloves over his hands. While clutching the blade close to his chest, he bent down and made a silent prayer. # The full moon shined in the black sky. The men rode all the way to the tallest hill in Darlington where they crudely built a cross and set it ablaze. It glowed above the town. The fire extinguished as soon as the men left. On horseback, the small hand-picked army left clouds of dust behind them. Butterflies fluttered in The Imperial Wizard’s stomach while he and his squadron went charging into the woods. His robe shone violet in the moonlight and whistled in the wind as he rode. When the dust cloud settled, the men vanished, but for the sounds of their horses’ hooves. Aaron, Will’s page, rode behind Will on his horse: “I knew Will since he was a boy. I thought it was dumb how folks voted him the Imperial Wizard after his Daddy died. Will used to get bullied in school. Kids said that a Nigger was smarter than he was. 'A nigger even knows the answer to that,' we all say and laugh.” # The Imperial Wizard and his Klansmen found The Hoodoo Nigger picking roots and flowers. They scared away the mocking and humming birds. “Tie them horses around the tree. Hurry!” The Imperial Wizard whispered. The Imperial Wizard stepped quietly behind an oak tree and shined a flashlight on his quarry’s face. The trees’ shadows wavered more than the trees themselves “You don’t have the sense to leave, do you, boy?” “Who you calling a boy, monkey? You don’t own these woods. And why you all dressed like that? You go to a party?” “What the hell?” The Imperial Wizard shouted. “I never been before. That is where you will all go if you don’t hurry your monkey tails home.” Green apples hung on tree branches. The Hoodoo Nigger plucked one and tossed it to The Imperial Wizard. "Here, take an apple back home, Monkey.” No one moved to restrain him. They were all scared of what he might do. “Get him.” The Imperial Wizard ordered. The Imperial Wizard’s Aaron—who pulled a long think knotted rope out of his satchel—then placed it into The Imperial Wizard’s free hand. “What this for?” The Imperial Wizard asked Aaron. “I’m holding the flashlight.” Aaron passed the rope to the next man down the row, until it returned to The Imperial Wizard. “Why…I be damned.” The Imperial Wizard said. “If you all don’t get busy...go! Why I…” The Imperial Wizard beamed his flashlight on their concealed faces. “Well…go on, Aaron!” The Imperial Wizard put the rope back into his hands and turned his attention to his prey. Aaron shuffled. The other men followed him. A struggle ensued. The Hoodoo Nigger fought to free himself. The men overpowered him and pinned him down, tied his arms behind his back. The men rejoiced at their swift victory. They tied a rope around a tree branch. The Hoodoo Nigger’s legs air danced when they strung him up high. The Imperial Wizard turned his back and walked away from the men, trying to block out the noise in his head, avoiding the bulging eyes and twisted mouth that came when it was finished. Since he was a boy, the sight sickened him. He told no one; weak men weren’t allowed in his home. Applause erupted from the men, sounding as if thunder had torn a hole into the sky. They took out whisky bottles and fired guns. Handshakes and warm hugs were shared. Beneath the tree, they ate ham sandwiches they kept in their saddle bags. # In Darlington, the horsemen’s children heard screams from the woods. Children awoke gasping for air, clutching their toy animals by the necks, waiting for their fathers’ return. The clamor bounced like a ball against the walls of their bedrooms. # “Why, I think I’ll have an apple now like the Nigger offered us. It’s the polite thing to do.” The Wizard said. The men chuckled. “Pick me an apple!” The Imperial Wizard pointed to the tree decorated with the Hoodoo Nigger’s body. “But a dead Nigger in that tree,” Aaron replied laughing. With a grin and a chuckle, The Imperial Wizard answered. “What, you going to let some Nigger stand in your way? Push him aside! In fact, get some for all of us!” Aaron picked an apple for each one of the men. The green apples sparkled like Christmas bulbs. The Imperial Wizard looked at The Hoodoo Nigger’s carcass and lost his appetite to eat one. He threw his apple away without anyone noticing. “Why folks scared of this Nigger, again? And why they call him The Hoodoo Nigger? He like any other Nigger we don’ lynched.” Aaron stared at the corpse. The Imperial Wizard spoke to his squadron in a robust voice, “Let us take a moment of prayer to thank our loved ones at home who supported us.” The men made a ring around their The Imperial Wizard; they cheered him for leading them to kill the beast. Like ghosts, they floated around their conquest. “Let’s get on back. We got a ways to travel. Let him hang, so folks know we were here. Niggers in Darlington think twice about getting some coon to put a spell on us.” The Imperial Wizard said. He didn't want to be around the dead body anymore. He struggled to keep his ham sandwich in his gut. “And what about a souvenir?” Aaron said. “It won’t take long.” Aaron, with the help of the other men, pulled down The Hoodoo Niggers’ trousers. “You should be doing this! This is the job for The Imperial Wizard. Come on, Mr. Wizard and get busy!” Aaron and the other men turned their mask faces to The Imperial Wizard. The Imperial Wizard took out his sword; it dropped twice from his purple gloved hand. The wind blew, making leaves rain on him. Trembling like a scared boy lost in the woods, he heard the voice of his father speak within the breeze. "Go ahead and do it. You think that little lady, Joy, will stay. They tell everybody and her you didn't do it. Joy will go and get her a real man. Then what will you have? If I could get up from my grave, I’d disown you. Give you the whipping you need. What girl wants a man too scared to protect her?" The Imperial Wizard picked up the sword. He closed his eyes and began to swing it, missing the main prize. The Imperial Wizard’s blade chipped and fell, falling from his hand. He picked it up the steel blade, and hit the body over and over and over again, but the chipped sword just made hard hammering sounds against the body. As the men rode back to Darlington, The Imperial Wizard’s emotions were unchained. The one thing he put trust in, broke in front of everyone. What if they tell folks I couldn't do it? Who would respect me? They all would call me ‘Imperial Willow’ once we return. They’d point and whisper wherever I go. The Imperial Wizard heard a scream and halted the men with a raise of his hand. “What the hell was that?” The Imperial Wizard turned to his masked men. “It was just one of the mockingbirds,” Aaron laughed. “No it wasn't. Listen!” A sharp gargle cut the air. It made sparrows fly for a quieter place to rest. “He’s alive!” The Imperial Wizard exclaimed. “We have to go back! We will look like a fool to everybody.” The other men protested. The Imperial Wizard’s mare nipped at the other horses. “Bullshit,” Aaron said. The Imperial Wizard could hear screaming. “I’m in charge!” The Imperial Wizard asserted. Everyone was tight-lipped, except Aaron. “What is this about, Will? Huh?” The Imperial Wizard unsheathed his sword. “Let’s go!” The Imperial Wizard raised his sword like it was King Arthur’s sword. “Let’s get the Nigger before he gets away!” A full moon showered rays of silver light on an oak tree. “Slow down. Here he is!” Like a dead serpent, The Hoodoo Nigger hung from a rope. Yellow daisies and white and red carnations glowed in the dark. The Imperial Wizard sliced through falling leaves as if they were attacking him. He poked the corpse’s bare foot gently with the tip of his sword. “I heard him! I heard screaming from over there!” He pointed his chipped sword into a field of daisies. “Go! Hurry!” Under the moss-covered oak tree, dangling feet hung above The Imperial Wizard’s head. Screams was heard within the fields. The Imperial Wizard wanted to go home. But how could he, without a scratch to show his valor?Agitated horses gallop in short, panicky dashes into the absolute darkness of the woods, leaving trails of dust in their tracks. The Imperial Wizard went on foot into the daises searching for his battalion. A fog tip toeing quietly behind the mare he held onto with the reins. When the fog evaporated, the horse vanished. “Pearl, where are you? It's time to get back home.” He walked for twenty minutes and stopped to catch his breath. “By God! I got no further than I was before,” he whispered. He told them ten minutes. He couldn't wait to hear their excuse. He'd show them! “Pearl…Pearl.” The Imperial Wizard called to his mare in desperation. Where was she? An owl hooted. The Imperial Wizard, realizing he still carried a pistol, fired it. BANG! BANG! BANG! “Come out here.” The Imperial Wizard called. The owl fell and bumped against the Wizard’s head. He kicked the owl like a football into the yellow garden. “Show yourself.” “What in the name of the Lord?” A white baboon swung off a branch of a tree. In bright colored feathers, a peacock dashed out the field of daises. Where Am I? Did I walk into a jungle? Lord, take me away from this nightmare. He pointed his pistol to his temple. The wind blew, carrying words of his dearly departed father to his ears: "Boy, don’t give up now. You are still standing. When you get home folks will see you as a hero. You can say you killed the Hoodoo Nigger all yourself." Will placed the gun away from his head and ran, hoping to find the path home. He ran back to the lynch tree. The flashlight he held lost its fight to stay lit. The Imperial Wizard fished in his pockets and found three match sticks—I’ll burn this tree, so they have light to find me, he thought. A wind snatched them from his hands. “Damn it!” He hoped folks would call him a hero and carry the folds of his robe around town. He thought of the statue that would be built in his honor, and remember his legacy. The Imperial Wizard slumbered home. The purple tail of his robe was covered in mud, twigs, leaves and acorns. The sun was rising. Mosquitoes, bees, and fireflies buzzed around his sweat-drenched face. Sweat dripped from his forehead. His sword was gone. When he walked, he heard the soft twerp of birds in the forest. He could hear the laughter of children nearby. Pointed arches of a church were visible in the sky. # A horse drawn wagon carried five men with rifles through the woods that separate Darlington from the hills and roads that circled the town. The four-wheel cart stopped in front of a soiled purple garment lying on the dirt road. “Lord, have mercy!” A man shouted. He kneeled down and turned The Imperial Wizard over on his back and checked his pulse. “He’s alive!” The search party lifted The Imperial Wizard up from the ground and onto the back of the cart. Slowly, his eyes opened and his mouth foamed from dehydration; he drank thirstily from a jug of water. “Where are the other men?” They asked The Imperial Wizard. Blood rubbed and smeared on the men’s overalls from off his purple soiled robe. The Imperial Wizard had lost his father’s voice, his words rambled out, babbling what had happened the night before. How he was deserted by his men and stood alone in the midst of terror. How he—The Imperial Wizard slew the Hoodoo Nigger with his broken sword. The rescue team took him home to recuperate. The Imperial Wizard lay wide-eyed in bed, staring at the cracks in the ceiling, while his drawers and linens were frequently changed by his Mother. # When I came to visit Will, he had bandages wrapped around his head. I wanted to pray with him, but it wasn’t possible. Will complained of hearing a screaming from the Hoodoo Nigger. He tried to release the noise by cutting a hole in his head. Will gets up in the middle of the night and says to his Mother, “Didn’t you hear him, Ma?” Will say to his Mother, “that’s the Hoodoo Nigger screaming in the woods. I need to get him.” That’s why you hear the sound of a rifle being fired. Autumn leaves dropped off tree branches forming a pile. A search party scoured the forest for fallen soldiers who might be clinging to life and discovered a long rope on the arm of an oak tree, swinging in the breeze. White baboons ate granny apples sitting on thick tree limbs. Loud pitch screams deafen the men’s ears. An ostrich’s plucked daises from the fields running away as the men approach with drawn rifles. A giraffe neck was in the ferns of the tress. It long neck covered by the leaves. The baboons—guardians of the tree, charged violently at the men, chewing the apples they plucked off branches. #Unreal #ShortStory #TheHoodooNigger #Racism #RacismInAmerica #Folklore #Hoodoo #HoodooCulture #Cultural Visit our shop and subscribe. Sponsor us. Submit and become a contributor. Like us on Facebook and follow us on Twitter. Comments
Shawn Frazier
2/26/2015 12:10:57 pm
Jazmin Garth
9/4/2016 05:22:54 pm
I have my white gloves!!! Lol Good excerpt Comments are closed.
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