I remember the night, watchingWalter Cronkite on the evening news. He cried when he said Rev. King had been shot. I was too young to understand why people hated those whose skin was different. All I knew was my favorite uncle studied to become a minister, just like Rev. King. All I could think was would they shoot my uncle too.
When I asked my mom why anyone would want to kill a minister, she had no words.
Free Fiction Monday: Heroics
-
Maxwell Sobel writes about heroes for a living. He studies them, imagines
them, imagines being them. But when a routine drive turns into a fight for
his li...
1 week ago









No comments:
Post a Comment