A short Historical Fiction story. Please read, and tell me what you think. :)
It Only Takes One
I stepped up onto the public bus, rushed by the leering glances of the white men, and quickly made my way to the back to take a seat. It had been a long day. I had woken up at dawn to help mama with the babies, managed to comb back my wild thick curls, and made my way to Montgomery City African American Public High School. I had received a C on my algebra test, which I knew would make mama upset. And to make it worse, Tommy Jones had thrown a brick at me as I waited by the bus stop. I rolled up the sleeve of my dress, and gently touched the bruise. I winced as pain shot up and down my arm, and angry tears threatened to spill out, but I managed to hold them in. Never let the white men make you cry Eliza. That’s what mama always said.
The bus lurched to a stop, and I craned my neck to see who was coming onto the bus. In came Ms. Rosa Parks. She was one of my mama’s friends, and I had often seen her at church. I watched her make her way to the back of the bus, ignoring the glances of the people in the front. She made eye contact with me and gave me a warm smile, as she sat in the seat across from me. I then began to relax in my seat, and observed the area around me. Up in front of the bus, it was very clean. The windows had sort of a sparkle to them, and the floor looked like it was cleaned regularly. In the back, however, it was quite a different story. The windows were so grimy, that I could barely see through them. There was a revolting stench coming from the back, which made me want to cover my nose, but I didn’t for fear of being rude. The greatest difference between the two sections was that the front was filled with white folks, and in the back were all us blacks.
As I was observing this, four young white men stepped onto the bus. I looked around and noticed that there were no more seats in the front. I guess I’ll have to give up my seat. I sighed as I, the person sitting next to me, and the women across from me gave up our seats. I looked back, and to my astonishment, Ms. Rosa Parks was still sitting there. The four men walked back and looked at her.
“Move Lady,” one of them said. Ms. Parks looked at them, and then quietly turned back.
“Ms. Parks,” I whispered frantically. “They want to sit down, we have to move!”
Ms. Parks looked at me, gave me a small smile, then turned around and continued to sit down. Suddenly I realized what she was doing, she was rebelling. While I was fearful for her safety, a sense of awe and respect for her came over me. She was doing what so many of us had dreamed of doing, but never had the courage to do. She was quietly protesting the Jim Crow Laws. The men continued to yell at her, but when she continued to resist, the bus driver called the police. When a cop came into the bus to get her, I was frightened. I hope she doesn’t try to resist him. But she didn’t. When the police grabbed her by the arm, she calmly stood up and walked with him toward the door of the bus. Before she left however, she turned, looked me in the eyes, and gave me a smile. I then began to understand what she was doing, because in her eyes was not sadness, but a feeling of victory. I had a feeling that what she had done that day would change everything.
That day I ran home as soon as I got off the bus to tell mama the whole story. At first she looked shocked, but then she began to smile.
“Eliza,” she said. “Why do you think she did it?”
“I think she had a plan mama,” I answered. “I think what she did today will inspire people everywhere to stand up for themselves. I think now, I’m not as afraid of them anymore. I think maybe one day I could to what Ms. Parks did. What do you think?”
Mama smiled. “I think so too baby, I think so too.
And I had been right. This had all taken place in 1955. About one year afterwards, in December 1956, the court ruled that bus segregation was unconstitutional, and buses had been integrated. Now as an old lady, I look back on that day as the time I realized that one person can truly make a difference in the world.
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