"Hurry up yer' lazy self! We 'aint gonna net 'ny work done if you both keep on actin' like this!" a young girl - who looked no older than 12 – exclaimed at her brother.
Her short, fluffy hair was pulled into two pigtails that rested beside her cheeks, and they bounced with the motion of the girl repeatedly jumping impatiently on the balls of her feet, as she watched her two sloth-like brother.
This girl's name was Tiffany Logan. She was almost like the mirror image of her aunt Cassie. She obtained the upbeat manner of her mother, Claudia Logan and always tried to make the best out of any situation.
"Tifa, ya know that I don' wanna get myself all dusty!" Tifa's twin brother, Reno complained childishly.
Usually, Reno would be happy to help his family in the cotton fields. But today was just not one of those days. The sun was scorching, and unseen flames flickered around the working children's feet as the burning ground planted scalding kisses on their heels. The warmth trickled down their backs like a thick honey. It made the thin, flimsy material of their clothes stick to their skin from the sweat. And worst of all? It made the ground dry. And a dry ground meant that the dust would easily be kicked up with even the slightest tip-toe and twirl around your legs, dancing a sickly filthy performance before finally settling on dry skin.
The adolescent boy looked down at his toes, and pursed his lips into a thin line. Dirty. Dirty, dirty, dirty, dirty.
Tiffany rolled her eyes at the behaviour of her twin. "'S just a bit 'a dried up mud! It 'aint gonna hurt nobody!" her shoulders dropped in a dramatic sigh. "C'mon, Reno! Let's go see what Ma wants, 'cos she was callin' the pair of us while you were busy worryin' 'bout yer feet!"
The sunny girl strode towards her brother and grinned at the funny-looking, scrunched up face that her brother was making. She took his hand and dragged him inside their humble home.
"Ma! Ma! We done with the cotton fields 'fer today!" the young girl called out once she stepped into the house, her hand still wrapped around Reno's skinny wrist.
She heard the clanging of metal coming from the kitchen, then footsteps heading towards them.
"Good heavens! Tiffany, Reno, 'yer all covered in all that dry dirt!" their mother scolded, while she rested a hand on her slender hips. She gave a hefty sigh, but a knowing smile to pair. "The both 'a you can do me a favour and clean out all them boxes at the back – they've been there 'fer ages now, n' all they're doin' is collectin dust!"
The twins groaned at the order. They were done with today's work already! They wanted to play! Have fun! Not clear out some old, dusty boxes for the rest of the day!
"Yes m'am," Reno solemnly muttered.
Tiffany childishly puffed out her cheeks, but still proceeded to spin on her heel and trudge back outside to the small stack of withering boxes. Just one glance at them, and anyone would be able to tell that they had been there, unmoved for a while. Cobwebs netted along the edges of the box, and some crumpled in the cooking sun. The sides of the box were beginning to fold over itself and the brown colour was eventually paling into being completely submerged in dust. Reno couldn't help but recoil in disgust.
After much rummaging in each box, finding stacks of useless, dusty, broken items that perhaps once meant something a long time ago, the pair were almost finished. It had taken them a good hour and a half to get through each box, because every item seemed to be as interesting as the next. The duo somehow ended up talking about each object, wondering what the story behind it was.
At this point, their dark skins were covered in a light layer of sweat, but the cool evening breeze felt almost comforting on a day that was as burningly hot as that day had been.
Tiffany lifted the damaged flaps of the box. Her nose crinkled at the dust that was blown towards her round face.
"What's inside, Tifa?" Reno questioned, standing from a 'safe' distance from the dust.
Inside the box was a small stack of books, all of which were written on the front in messy handwriting 'Clayton Chester Logan'. Tifa carefully reached into the box and took the book from the top of the stack, gently brushing away the flakes of dirt that had gathered on the surface as if the book would crumble away at any rough touch.
Reno neared towards his sister and knelt down beside her, careful to not let his knees touch the ground. "Clayton Chester? That's Pa!" Tiffany excitedly called. She sat down on her bottom, not caring that her clothes would be caked in dirt and opened the ancient book. The handwriting was messy, and hard to decipher, but they read on none the less.
Mama said that if I wanted my own book, I would have to learn how to write as well. So she got me this book of papers and said that I should practice inside this book and write every day about whatever I want! I hope that Mama will get me a book for me one day!
Reno and Tiffany read every page, all reading about what their father and uncles and aunt was up to during their young days. They learned about how there was a white boy, who was different and was nice to the previous generation of Logans, which the pair found strange. They learned about a girl named Lillian-Jean, and about a poor man named and so many more things. But at the end of the book, on the last few pages – that was what really caught their attention.
Them white people came to get TJ. Them white people hurt TJ and his family, and them white people took TJ away. Stacey told me that it was because his two white friends said to some other people that he did something bad and so TJ had to be punished for it. But why did they have to go hurt his Mama like that? Today Mama is going to bring us to a place where we can see TJ, but she was real sad about it.
"Who's TJ?" Reno asked, with a tilted head.
Tiffany responded with a nonchalant shrug, and so the pair decided to venture back inside to go and find their father.
"Gee… You found those old things round the back? I thought I left those back at Logan land!" the twin's father proclaimed in a nostalgic smile, and a gentle tone.
"Yeah, Pa! We wanna know, what happened? The books jus' goes and stops right there!" cried Reno.
For a short moment, the tall man's eyes widen and his shoulders tense at the recollection of the memory. He thought that he could just forget about it, but he guessed that he'd have to tell someone sooner or later.
"Well, you two, wha'dya wanna know?"
"Who's TJ?" the two young children both asked in unison.
The man who was formerly known as 'Little Man' looked at the ground, and he felt his chest overflow with a mass amount of guilt. He glanced at the innocent, chestnut-brown hues of his children and began his story.
"TJ… TJ was a good friend of 'yer uncle Stacey. Not always the morally best boy, but he had a good heart."
"What happened to him?" Tiffany queried.
"The pair 'a you sit down, 'an I'll tell you the whole story before dinner," commanded 'Little' Man.
They did as they were instructed and listened closely to a story that began to unfold.
"TJ did somethin' bad. Well, uncle Stacey said that he didn't, but lots 'a them white folk said that he did. They took him away, without even a second thought. Then what those while people decided to do," he took a pause, as if to prepare himself, "they decided to publicly hang the boy, 'fer something they had no proof on at all. All they had was the word of a few white folk."
"Ma told us that it's just how the world works, right, Pa?" Reno asked with a low streak to his tone.
"We all wish that it weren't like that, son. An' the day that TJ had to… go just made 'yer uncle Stacey crack. TJ was all lookin' up at Stacey, on his knees, holdin' his hand an' beggin for forgiveness from 'im."
There was a long, void pause that filled the room before Clayton Chester turned another page of his story, but his voice was like chalk. It sounded dry, rough and fragile.
"Right before he was hung, he went 'n close his eyes. He did somethin' that shocked us all. He… well, he smiled and… and locked his two hands together, and jus' started praying. He prayed to God 'fer forgiveness," he sighed and took a moment to honour TJ's existence. "Them white folk are sick in the head. TJ's hanging was public – made for all to see. It was jus' like entertainment for 'em white people," he remarked, his voice filled with disgust. "'An after that, we decided never ta' talk about it. Nobody ever called it out, but it was like some kinda' unspoken agreement. Yer aunt Cassie and uncle Christopher-John still live at what's left of Logan Land, workin' to keep it safe with Cassie's husband an' kids while yer Uncle Stacey works at the train tracks like 'yer great Pa. An' 'yer great-great Mama taught Cassie all she knew 'bout medicine, an' everyone near Logan Land relies on her, so she feels can't leave."
"B-but 'dey don' even know if he did it or not!" Tiffany stuttered, while her heart pounded as she felt sick to the stomach.
Clayton knelt in front of his to beloved children and pulled them into a hug. "I know, baby, I know it's not right. But someday it's gon' be fixed. Someone's gonna come along to 'ol Mississippi and change things. Someday, baby. Someday."