Tuesday, August 2, 2016


The land of seagull and fox lay the psychiatrist for many men in need, leading one to follow a path of villainous greed. To fight a war side by side an oppressed people from a mutual land out of reach, only to befriend this supposed Nigger in an explosive need. Cradled in the arms of a black comrade at this time you see; this supposed Nigger was all he had, he needed me.

In a whisper, slightly choked from the blood within his throat, he apologized, and then he truly spoke. He asked of me, a Brooklyn-born bloke, to journey deep into the south. He asked me to knock upon his door and to ask his father to come out. "He is the Grand Wizard of the Ku Klux Klan," he said to me, close to passing out, head slightly grazing my knee.

In his brief revival, choked even more, he said to me; "befriend him, save his life, as you did for me. Tell him of your bravery in the mile you ran with me. Lifting me out of hell, over your shoulder, and for saying to me: it's going to be all right, we will not die this day--like Superman we're off--up, up and away. Your bravery and fearless valor in running a full mile, through that god-awful minefield; sir you did not lie, you were right, we did not die. For cradling me in your arms as I lay innocent and cried, to tell him I love him and that this is how I died. That one man's strength of a people continuously oppressed, saved your son in more ways than he could ever guess. See him now father, see him as I request. See him as I did, a man, and a people deserving of respect."

In 1968 after a collision my arm had with the blast of a grenade, I journeyed home haunted with this last request asked of me by Private Dave. I made my way to Macon Mississippi with my message that day, knocking on the door of this KKK king. I mustered the courage and attempted to say to he while standing strong upon his porch with an arm hanging grotesquely in a manicured sling. "Nigger how dare you poison my steps with your presence," were his words you see; fists balled up ready to dart out at me. Quickly informing him of every detail of his sons dying wish, in a shock he stood silent, life as he knew it seemingly amiss. Walking away, his face still dazed, I stepped off his porch, having delivered a dying wish from a comrade that died being saved.

I walked away from that home with a face far from blue, understanding, right then, that my former comrade had just saved my life too. I was Superman at that very moment and yes... yes, back then, I flew; saving many as a worrier, but now having been saved too.

Pragmatic author A.K. Kuykendall has a passion for writing conspiracy, espionage, horror, and suspense literature that blend the concepts of fact and fiction. For more information on his projects, visit http://www.thewriterofbooks.com/list-of-works/ or, to email the author directly for Q&A on this post, write to info@thewriterofbooks.com.