The air smelled like the sweet fragrance of flowers the day I walked to my death. The wind was brisk, yet not cold; it simply nipped at my skin so that my hair stood on end.

There were so many people around me… so many faces. There were men much like me, with thin faces and scornful frowns. There were the elderly with their graying hair and hunched backs. There where also women wearing long dresses and bonnets, and they clung closely to their husbands, if they had one. I even noticed a few children about. They stood in front of their mothers, looking up at me with their big, glassy eyes that could melt a heart. All of these people seemed so different in so many ways. Some of them were low class farmers, dressed in their ragged clothes and ripped hats, while others were aristocrats, standing tall and straight. The range of people seemed to be endless, but there was one thing they all had in common; they all stood still, staring at me relentlessly with nothing but contempt.

I gazed up into the sky sorrowfully, wishing the sun would shine. The grayness of the atmosphere simply made the situation I was stuck in even the more depressing and made the air around me seem even darker.
The two men that walked me down the crowded street were far larger than I. They stood about a foot above me, and their arms were the size of my gangly legs. Their hands gripped my forearms with such ferocity that I was losing circulation and my fingertips were beginning to turn purple. I wanted to fight back, but what was the point? I was surrounded by people that hated me. There was no possibility that I could escape with my life.
Something hard hit me in the face and I felt a runny juice dribble down between my eyes. I looked down at the ground to the squashed tomato that lay on the gray cement. A terrible frown befell me as I heard the crowd erupt in laughter and zeal. Next thing I knew I felt another tomato, and another one, and another one. And pretty soon other things were being flung at me. Fruits, vegetables; anything the crowd could get their hands on.
They chanted cruel things at me as we walked by. They begged for my demise and cheered for my death. The two guards let this go on for quite some time. It wasn’t until an onion accidentally hit them that they finally made the crowd stop.
I hung my head as we walked the rest of the way.
It seemed like an eternity; that walk. I stared at the ground as a tear rolled down my face, and I dared not look up into the scornful faces of my enemies.
Finally, we reached the scaffold.
It looked like such an impending object with such an intense presence that my knees nearly gave way. I stared up at it with bewildered eyes and my head swayed when I stopped breathing.
One of the guards holding me told me to hurry up as he kicked me in the back of the knee. I shot back to reality and trudged the rest of the way, then up the steep stairs until I stood on the top of the scaffold, staring down at the hundreds of people that had come to see me die.
I stared down at them in sorrow, and they stared back at me in disgust. What kind of world do we live in? I had thought. What kind of world is this that people take joy from watching someone lose their life?
To my right stood a man with a piece of paper in his hands. He too stared at me with contempt. Finally, he turned to the sheet and read the words aloud; “Roger G. Haley,” he boomed. “You have been convicted with the felony of insubordination and of being the mastermind for the recent slave rebellion. The penalty for this crime, especially for a slave, is death.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a noose, and I knew that it was only a matter of time when it was strung around my neck.
“Can I say somethin’?” I asked in a hoarse voice, looking over at the man with pleading eyes.
He was most evidently going to say no, but something changed in his eyes. He let out a low sigh and muttered the words; “Fine. But make it quick.”
I turned away from him and to the public that glared up at me with scorn. I licked my chapped lips and began to speak. “Down here in Louisiana, you people don’t treat us right; us slaves. I don’t know if any other states are that way, but I’m tellin’ you, this one sure is. You know, when I was only nine years old, my mother was sold to some white man from a different part of the country, and I never got to see her again. You white people just don’t get that, do you? You’ve never been forcibly separated from someone you loved before, have you? And yet you do it to your slaves like we’re nothin’! Like we mean nothin’! Like we ain’t human beings just like you!” as I spoke this, I zoned out into tasteful memories. I saw my mother, tall, slim and beautiful. Her skin was as black as the night, and her eyes were as deep as the ocean. I saw her long brown hair flowing in the wind as she worked in the garden, and I felt her warm embrace as she folded her arms around me. I could smell the sweet fragrance of her skin… just like flowers.
“That’s enough,” the man boomed. “Guards, grab him.”
The guards didn’t move, so I continued on talking.
“Being torn away from my mother wasn’t the last time I was separated from a loved one either,” I spoke. “I had a sister, you see, and she was my best friend. We did everything together, and we always stood up for each other. But, you see, one day she got pregnant, and our master knew that her baby wasn’t no black man’s baby, but it was his baby. And, he didn’t want nobody figurin’ that out. So he… he…” I took in a deep breath as I tried to compose myself and keep from crying. I pictured my sister as well, just like mother. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen; far prettier than any of those white women that draped themselves in so much linen it was a miracle they didn’t die of heat stroke. My sister was a natural beauty. She had so much potential, so much determination, and so much love. She would have done anything to help anyone; that was just the kind of person she was. She loved everyone. “He killed her.” I choked out. “He killed her and her unborn baby. And he didn’t even have the courtesy to bury her! Do you want to know what he did with her body?!” I stared at the silent crowd through tear filled eyes, and they said nothing back, it was as if the entire area had been engulfed in absolute silence. “He burned her!” I screamed. “He burned my sister’s body right in front of me!”
I stared out at the people, waiting for a response, but nothing was said. “And you wonder why I started a rebellion!” I shouted at the top of my lungs. “This is why?! You people treat us slaves like garbage, and then you do nothing to change it when we point it out! It takes violence to teach you people anything! You call us dumb, but you’re the idiots! You don’t learn nothin’! Even if we slap you in the face with it!”
I felt the firm grasp of the guards as they grabbed my arm, but they didn’t yet try to move me. I looked up at each of them in disgust, and then back at the crowd. “I hope you all know that someday everything’s gonna change.” I snapped. “Someday you whites will realize that just because us Negros have different skin than you, doesn’t mean we are any lesser. We have a brain, feelings and a soul, just like all of you. But one thing’s different.” I leaned forward. “We have hearts.”
At that, the guards picked me up off my feet and drug me over to the noose. I didn’t fight. They strung a bag over my face and I felt the grasp of the rope as they tightened it to my neck.
I had expected the crowd to cheer as they saw me there, about to die, but not a person emitted a word. All I could hear was the soft wind as it ruffled my baggy shirt, and I just kept thinking about how good the air smelt. It smelt just like flowers.
Then the board beneath my feet fell through, and I fell with it. And that was the day I died.

Roger G. Haley
September 12th 1845

P.S. Or so people think.