Creative Writing: The Civil Rights Movement

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I really shouldn’t have been walking in high heels, but Susina had called and asked me to come over as soon as I could, and she had sounded urgent. So, there I was, walking down the sidewalk in my work clothes because I didn’t have time to stop at home. The things I do for my best friend. My ankles were starting to ache, and the thick blanket of summer heat was doing nothing to alleviate my nerves. I studied the numbers on the row of quaint houses. 770, 780,790… Ah, 800. I approached Susina’s familiar olive house and climbed the steps, the apprehension swelling in my stomach as I did. I didn’t bother with knocking on the door, I just used the key she had given me and walked in. Inside it was a muted grayscale in contrast to the blinding outdoors. …show more content…

I think that with how long our movement has been going on, and how much people know about it, we may just get a president that will finally push us to success. The Civil Rights movement might finally be over very soon!” I said. The knot that had been working itself tight in my stomach finally came undone. I held her eyes and smiled as warmly as I could, crossing the floor and taking one of her hands in mine. “We both know that whatever happens in the next few months is going to mean a lot. What happens will be huge, but we also both know that we can fix it if it goes wrong, and maintain it if it goes …show more content…

So she was worried that because that old conservative justice retired, and that there was a new president coming who would appoint a new one, we might not get the break we need to push the Civil Rights movement forward? The light clicked on adding some much needed life to her room. I went to flick on some more lights around the house, my thoughts meandering along with my steps. What she should have realised is that the Civil Rights activists are gaining sway. Click went another light. News stories of protests are making their way to the farther reaches of the nation, and people are becoming more aware of us, maybe even becoming sympathetic. Click. Actually, we have a high likelihood of having a liberal president. Click. That’s what I think anyway. I found myself face-to-face with Susina again. She already looked better, more confident. “Susina, all I can say is that we should keep our hopes up. And we should keep showing our support to the activists around town. You and I can do this, we can.” “Thanks Anne.” was all she said back, but I could tell, in her eyes, that she knew. She knew that what happens next will change history. She knew that this is the eye of the

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