LANGSTON HUGHES by Philip Drogheo
It was a stormy Friday afternoon. CHILD has just come home from school. “Mom,
could I have a bowl of soup?” he/she asked eagerly. “Sure, honey, but it’s going to take
awhile to make. Why don’t you go to your room and get changed,” she responded
happily. “Alright mom,” CHILD sighed.
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CHILD scampered his/her way upstairs. When CHILD got to his/her room, he/she
turned the light on immediately. To his/her surprise, right there on the bed, was a hat.
CHILD had never seen this hat before. He/she stared at it for a moment, confused.
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CHILD was unable to think where or who it may have come from. “Hmm, maybe I
should try it on,” CHILD thought to him/herself. He/she walked over to the bed and sat
down. CHILD then put the hat on his/her head. All he/she saw after that was a flash of
light, then darkness.
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CHILD woke up in what looked to him/her like an alley. He/she stood up slowly and
rubbed his/her head, which ached for some reason. “Where am I,” he/she thought aloud,
looking around. “Mr. Hughes! he heard some one shout nearby.
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CHILD ran out of the alley into a wide and busy street from which he heard the people
shouting the name “Mr. Hughes.” He/she saw a man leaning on a street pole, reading a
newspaper. CHILD immediately ran over to him. “Mister, do you know where I am?”
CHILD asked. suddenly feeling frightened. “Why, you’re in Carmel, California,”
he/she told.
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CHILD was in distress now. Everything seemed to be spinning. He/she was speechless
and decided to sit for a moment so he/she could calm down. When CHILD was feeling
slightly better, he/she stood back up and looked at the man. “You okay, kid?” the man
asked, looking confused. “I have no idea sir, but please tell me, what year is it?” “Uh,
it’s 1934 last time I checked,” the man replied starting to look annoyed.
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CHILD put his/her hands on his/her face, unable to figure out how this had happened.
“Look, kid, if you need some help, the hospital is 6 blocks that way,” the man suddenly
began, pointing,” But I got stuff to do, so leave me alone alright,” he finished, walking
away.
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CHILD sat back down, completely bewildered. Suddenly, he/she heard it again, “Mr.
Hughes, Mr. Hughes!” CHILD got back up and looked in the direction of the voices.
CHILD saw a crowd following an African American man. Since CHILD obviously had
nothing better to do, he/she decided to go with the crowd.
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CHILD noticed immediately that the crowd was primarily black. He/she decided to
follow them to see where they would go. After about ten minutes of following the crowd,
CHILD noticed that the crowd was speeding up.
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Five minutes later CHILD found him/herself practically sprinting after the crowd.
He/she was nearly out of breath by the time the crowd stopped. He/she knelt over,
panting from exhaustion. After he/she caught his/her breath, CHILD looked up to see a
boarding house. The crowd she had been following was standing outside.
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CHILD looked around at the people, who seemed generally quite frustrated. He/she
approached a young black woman. “Excuse me, ma’am, who was everyone just
following?” CHILD asked in a polite tone, trying to hide his anxiousness. “Gee, you
don’t know!?” responded the woman sharply, “That’s Langston Hughes!”
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“Wow, Langston Hughes the famous poet?” CHILD replied, suddenly filled with
excitement. “that’s awesome, I want to meet him!” “Hah! Good luck, kid,” the woman
retorted quickly. What do you mean?” CHILD asked, confused again. The woman
sighed and looked at him/her. “Why do you think we’re all standing out here?” the
woman asked, “Mr. Hughes refused to talk to all of us fans because of all the reporters I
bet, so he decided to run into his house and lock the door.” “Which room is it, ma’am?”
CHILD asked. “Why, I do believe it’s the top room,” the woman responded right before
she headed to the front door to talk to the others.
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Horribly disappointed, CHILD looked at the ground, thinking of what to do. “Ah!”
he/she yelped as he/she spotted a rat scampering between his/her legs. His her eyes
stayed on the rat as it scurried its way into an alley. “That’s it!” CHILD thought aloud,
as he/she realized that the alley was on the same block as Mr. Hughes’ house. CHILD
looked around, making sure no one would follow. Realizing that everyone was too
preoccupied at the door, he made his way into the alley.
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CHILD was now in the alley, out of sight of the crowd. He/she picked out the house he
recognized as Mr. Hughes. He/she ten studied it carefully, trying to decide how to get
inside. “Oh, yeah,” CHILD thought aloud as he noticed the fire-escape.
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The cold slippery metal of the ladder on the fire escape was very dangerous, but CHILD
had little else on his/her mind than meeting Langston Hughes. As CHILD reached the
top of the maze of ladders and walkways, he/she slowly and quietly approached the
window. CHILD took a deep breath, as he/she entered the room.
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CHILD could feel his/her chest heaving from nervousness. He/she appeared to be in
what looked like a bedroom. There was only one door out of the room. CHILD
approached it as silently as possible. As he/she neared the door, he/she was about to say
Mr. Hughes’ name, as to not startle him. Unfortunately, before he had a chance, the door
swung open and he/she was facing a man with a pistol.
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“Who are you!?” the man shouted as he cocked the hammer of the revolver in his hand.
“Uh, um my name is uh…..” CHILD trailed off, scared stiff. The man lowered the
pistol. “You’re just a kid, huh?” CHILD nodded, unable to speak due to lingering fear.
“Well, what’s your name?” The man repeated. “CHILD,” CHILD responded, easing up
a bit.
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I see, well, come sit down,” the man said as he walked into another room, set down the
pistol, and ushered CHILD to have a seat on a chair. “so, why are you in my home?” the
man asked in a slightly lighter tone, as if to ease CHILD’s tension. “Uh, I uh came to uh
meet you, Mr. Hughes…..you are Mr. Langston Hughes, right, sir?” CHILD asked, still
quite tense. “He-ha, indeed I am. But what would you want with me?” Langston
responded with a grin. “I really just wanted to talk to you. You are a great literary, and
I’d love to speak with you.”
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“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not too happy lately. I have been witnessing a lot of
African Americans being mistreated horribly, and it’s making me sick,” Langston said as
he looked down in sadness. “Oh, yeah, it’s only 1934,” CHILD said. Langston then
gave him/her a look of bewilderment. “Indeed it is,” He responded, the confused look
still stapled to his face. “Come with me, I have something to show you,” Langston stated
as he got up and began walking to another room.
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The two then entered a faily simple un-carpeted room with only a few small wooden
chairs and a cheap looking desk. Langston headed for the desk and returned with a very
large book. He then handed CHILD the large book. “I’m thinking of calling it ‘The
Ways of White People,’ why don’t you give it a look through.” “I’d be honored sir,”
CHILD responded, beaming. “Just call me Langston,” Langston responded with a warm
smile.
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CHILD spent the next 30 minutes or so reading some of the short stories in Langston’s
book. After a long look-through, he/she set the book down. “Wow, Langston,” CHILD
stated, “that was really good, but…uh….” “Go on, spit it out,” Langston anxiously
responded. “Well, you don’t really seem to trust white people do you?” CHILD asked
quickly. “You see, CHILD, it’s not that I don’t like them, or at least not all of them. It’s
just that I’ve seen my African brother all over this country treated so much worse than
everywhere else in the world, and it’s very frustrating to me. My book is very hard, but it
is true,” he responded somewhat coldly. “I understand, Langston,” CHILD replied with
confidence. “I knew you would,” responded Langston.
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Suddenly, a very hard knock on the door could be heard. “Mr. Langston Hughes, open
up! You are under arrest for inciting a public riot! Open this door!” yelled a muffled
voice on the other side of the front door of the apartment. “Oh, boy, you had better get
out of here, CHILD. The deadbolts aren’t going to hold very long, and I don’t want to
be in any worse trouble than I am by running.” The knocks were getting harder and the
door looked as if it was about to be broken off of its hinges. “Uh, oh, I don’t know how
to get out,” CHILD replied, sounding horribly frightened. “Just go out the way you
came, Langston stated in an obvious tone. “No, you don’t understand, I need to get
home!” CHILD said, his/her voice on the brink of cracking. “You’re right, I don’t
understand, but you better go now if you don’t want to be in jail with me!” Langston
remarked again. CHILD felt as if he/she was going to cry and put his/her head down.
Suddenly, CHILD’s hat fell off and he/she saw it, the HOME button. “that’s it,” he/she
yelled as he/she put the hat back on and looked at Langston again. “Bye, Langston, good
luck with everything,” CHILD said with a wave. “You, too, kid,” CHILD heard as
he/she hit the HOME button.
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“Honey, your soup is ready, a familiar voice called. “Mom!” CHILD yelped with
excitement. CHILD looked around to see his/her room. He/she had made it back safe
and sound.