In My Past Life, I Was A Samurai.

We both had dreams of a distant journey. Her's were just a lot simpler than mine. I wasn't her neighbor, and I didn't live close by. She lived in an old farmhouse, out in the countryside. I had to bike twenty or thirty minutes, depending on my speed, to see her every day. Or every other day. I would go once in the morning before school, and once in the afternoon after the last bell rang. She didn't go to school. Instead, she stayed home and helped her mother around the house, while her brother and father worked on the farm. I had no business being out there, by myself. I wasn't aware of how dangerous the setting was. Montgomery, Alabama, 1964. An innocent, little black boy peddling all by himself, out in the country. Or at least, innocent to some. To the rest of the world, I had already been void of any light I carried with me into the world, once I could speak. Maybe, even much earlier than that.

Her father wasn't very fond of me. Her mother enjoyed my company very much, though. Her brother didn't really seem to care for me. However the wheel was spun, his days were to be the same either way. Wake up, eat, work, and go to sleep. So, what was the purpose of giving what little energy he had, into hating me? I thought of her brother, often. Did he hate the life he lived? Did he hate the world? He had every right to. It surely didn't care much for him. Maybe, he didn't care much anymore either. Maybe, he knew what was in store for him, for the rest of his days. The dreams of being a professor, a businessman, or maybe even an astronaut, all disappeared once the clock struck twelve for the tenth time, and his father handed him a shovel for the first time. Since that day, life's gone grey for him. I've never seen him smile, nor have I seen him frown. He shares the same expression as his father. A face that screams 'I hope we make it out alive'.

Every time I visited her. She had on a different-colored dress. Pink, Orange, Blue, Tan, it didn't matter. Nothing was more beautiful than the way the sun would hit her beautiful, black skin. Her face radiated with happiness every time she saw me. It almost felt like she would put on the dress, right before I arrived, almost as if she knew I was coming. I would try and hide my smile, to seem more mature than what I really was, to appear like a man to her. On the inside, I was screaming with joy. I would go walking with her in the fields, holding the basket as she picked berries. Sometimes, we would go into the town. Not often, though. We would find ourselves back on the farm, in the red barn, a lot. She would tell me about her fears, her desires, her secrets. As would I, to her. I told her that in my past life, I was a samurai. Slashing through adversity, defeating my enemies. I loved her. I was somebody new when I was with her. Then, the day would end and I would have to pedal back home. Where I was nobody. Where I wasn't important.

One afternoon, I was over at her farmhouse. We were in that same old barn, talking about any and everything. Her mother, father, and brother had gone into town. The only reason she wasn't forced to go as well, was because she was accompanied by me. Her mother, having always taken a liking to me, allowed her to stay. Our conversation went how it usually would go. Until she revealed something to me. She revealed what we both knew deep down inside, and I didn't know what to say. I was frozen. She put her hand on my chest and could feel what I wanted to say. I slowly leaned in and kissed her. She ran her fingers through my kinky hair, very gently. I stopped and pulled away. I looked her in her eyes. We both found ourselves in a memory. I told her I loved her, and she began to cry. She wasn't told that very often. That's what made her so special to me. We shared the same pain. Soon, we found ourselves becoming one.

Suddenly, a group of white boys barged in. They saw us, naked. She dug into me, holding on for dear life. They laughed at us. Ridiculed us. One of them pulled out a switchblade. He told me that if I didn't move he would cut me. I didn't move an inch. I was ready to die for her. He charged at me and I kicked him, but he charged again and cut my face. The rest of them jumped me. They beat me and dragged me out of the barn, into the fields. They then ran back into the barn, but before going, they put the blade up to my neck and told me if I tried to 'stop it', they'd kill me. They threw my face into the dirt, and I laid there. I could hear her screams. For whatever reason, they echoed. She yelled out my name. She cried. They were stripping her of whatever optimism she had. Whatever hope she saw in this world. I finally got back up to my feet, and immediately ran in the opposite direction. I aimed towards the town, so I could alert her father. I ran as fast as I could.

By the time I had returned with her family, she was dead. All I could do was stare.

In my past life, I was a samurai. Slashing through adversity, defeating my enemies.