My Spiritual Condition

     Night came, and I ventured forth from my little hiding place. I walked along the darkened cobbled streets, staying close to the alleyways, lest I be picked up for vagrancy. Nibbling from time to time on a small portion of the remaining bread and meat which I carried with me, my contemplations turned to my current predicament. I dreaded the thought of having to forage for food among the pigs, rats, and dogs, which animals appeared to rule the gutters and trash bins of the city. And yet I knew, in my degraded condition, that in order to survive, it was possible that I would have to eat whatever I could scavenge.

     Deprived of companionship, utterly desolate of spirit, my thoughts retreated to an earlier place in time, to my happier life with the other colored waifs. I remembered my favorite little playmate, Janie Hopewell, and the hoop game we would play together on the exterior grounds of the orphanage. I was well-treated, and fondly recalled Miss Hinton’s many kindnesses toward me and the others. As I wandered along, my eye fell upon a shiny object which lay between the cobbles. I paused and reached down to pick it up. It was made of glass, orbicular in shape, and flecked with red, white, and blue. I realized that it was a marble. 

Happier times at the Colored Orphans Asylum.

     Suddenly, I was reminded of the little cup-and-ball toy that I received on the fateful first day of the riot and which I had unsuccessfully attempted to retrieve amidst the tumult. Visions of the fire and of the screaming red-faced mob which had chased me assailed my mind as I turned the marble over. I realized that I was trembling. Knowing that I had to remain strong for my continuing journey, I rallied to shake the disturbing thoughts away. 

   [TO BE CONTINUED.]