Читать книгу 'The River' Blood Brother Chronicles - Volume 1 - T. Beaulieu - Страница 4

It all started when I found a snapshot when I was about 12 years of age. In a photo album full of people of color, indigenous and black, and some that are in between, a photo of ‘white’ men made me look twice.

There was something about it that stood out.

After some time, I asked around my large family. All I got was that the two men on the far left of the dog eared photo were half brothers.

That was that.

The more I asked, the more cryptic my elders became, some even getting angry, asking why I wanted to “open up old wounds”

As a young man, this only intrigued me even more.

Over time I started to learn more about the brothers, much I am sure has been dramatized. The stories that were told to me were detailed and colorful, tales of two men roaming through the Carolina’s as contract killers in the early 1920’s, one white, the other a creole, doing as they pleased in a time most black men could not even vote.

As more time passed, I begin to learn about Sketter and Slick, how much they meant to black and poor white people in that time, killing klans men, blowing up Klan chapters that were known to have killed the innocent and protecting those that could not protect themselves.

Each tale captivated my imagination, allowing a sense of pride as I started to understand that the history between blacks and whites in the Deep South had many gray areas and was often glorious and beautiful, as it was cruel and dehumanizing.

As time went on, I also discovered that the men were hired killers for white businessmen, killing off business rivals. Needless to say, the folklore that surrounds these alleged gangsters is as varied as the tales I have heard about their lives, much of which is long lost.

What I do know is that these men were important to many during that time, that they were killers and both disappeared around 1931 in New York City.

No one ever heard from them again.

As an author I was hooked, hearing colorful detailed stories and folklore, many that would often last well into the wee hours, told by people that apparently admired the men.

Always on the edge of my seat listening to much of what I was told, I was left unsettled after learning that the men seem to vanish right when they arrived in New York.

The stories and vivid lives well lived, it all ended so abruptly.

This fact haunted me for months, I wanted to know more, always arriving to the concrete resolution that Sketter and Slick, even though they lived generations ago, would never see the impact their bravery and gumption had on future generations.

Honing my craft as a wordsmith, writing several publications, the men that were the most distant of distant relatives, subtle whispers of lives that were bold forces of nature, were always in my heart, some where roaming in my soul.

That is when my journey started, giving ‘The Blood Brothers’ life again. This time, my great-great uncle and cousin will finally reach Harlem, as I

was told they wanted to do so many years ago, as well as roam rest of

the world, defending the defenseless and killing the cruel as they see fit.

Thanks fellas,

I hope I make both of you proud.