The Root- Short Story Fiction

In The Name of Love and War

Artwork by Kwaku Ntow

It was a dark night. Too dark for any old lady to just be out, especially at a cemetery, but Kweem was a different type of woman. Known in her neighborhood as a healer, she was a very spiritual woman. What was once a beautiful woman with red undertones in her skin complexion is now an older and much wiser woman. She has held so much pain behind her green eyes that the drops of hazel seen in her irises can only be comparable to the hope she gives her community. Each wrinkle and blemish on her skin tells stories of victory and of defeat. Queen Marie is who she is, shortened to Q. M., but with the southern dialect it is pronounced as Kweem. Kweem is solidified now as much as her presence is in this graveyard.

In the mist of the darkness, she finds what she is looking for, her grandson’s resting place. Out of her bag, she pulls out two mason jars with Psalms fifty-eight etched on the tops of each. The raised dirt was still fresh since the funeral was just a few hours earlier that morning. She bent down slowly, as her knees could manage, and talked to her grandson as if he was still there while filling both mason jars with the dirt from his grave.

“Baby, I will get to the bottom of this. I ask you to guide me along my path to take back the peace they have taken from our family. I love you King, I’ll see you soon”, Kweem spoke as her eyes started to well with tears. She had it in her mind that she would find out what happened to her grandson and why her great-grandson has a permanent scar on his face.

Coming home to light white candles in front of pictures of her relatives, that have passed away over the years, to serve as her safe space within her home as well as an honor for what she now calls ancestors. She places the dirt next to a picture of her grandson when he was a baby and lights the first candle for him then proceeds to fill a jug of water for him. Kweem sits on her knees in front her late husband’s altar and replaces an old bottle of his favorite gin next to his picture. As she bows her head and closes her eyes to begin her conjuring ritual, she hears faint gulps of the water.

“I come to you humbly my love. Watch over our grandson as he transitions to becoming an ancestor. You know he went through a lot, but he changed his life for the better. I will do my best to keep his wife and their three children safe, especially his youngest boy. He witnessed it. Guide me to following through with finding out who did this to our grandson”, her words were slow and filled with agony and disappointment. She closed out the ritual and went to take a bath in vinegar and Florida water while reciting Psalms ninety-one for her future protection. She had a feeling the culprit was closer than would be expected. Sleep came quickly to her that night. Usually, she is awake due to the shadows or Hanks as her culture called them, so she would stay awake to listen and perform divinations. Tonight was quiet so she slept. And she dreamt. 

***

This was a familiar place. The crisp country air gently kissed her skin and the sounds of kids playing outside while adults played spades, patiently waiting for the food to be finished cooking on the grill. The place was entrenched with the smell of gin and cigar smoke that was pleasant to her nose. Very much a nostalgic feeling overcame her as Kweem was reliving a peaceful time in her life. She was home. This home was a familiar place that was filled with familiar faces she had never met. The only place she ever considered home and did her best to recreate in her old age for her own lineage was her grandmother’s house. There was her cousin with her five adult children and their children. There was her husband at the grill, bottle of gin in hand, flipping burger patties and painting the chicken with his own special sauce. Her family was known for having get togethers, especially Kweem and her only living cousin, Lucille, being the matriarchs of their family. Their kids grew up more like siblings, so their children grew up close as well. Everything was running smoothly as usual until Lucille broke her laughter to pose an innocent question, “Kweem, where’s Junior and King?”

“Child, they somewhere ‘round here. You know them, wherever Gerald and Lue is, King and Junior ain’t too far behind them.” Kweem giggled while responding to her cousin. “Food bout done anyway, they will come around.”

Just like clockwork, the brothers Gerald and Lue from the woods after their ‘walks’, and right behind them was Junior, Kweem’s troubled but spoiled grandson.

“Hey Mamaw, is the food ready?” Junior asked as innocent as a twelve-year-old could.

“Yes baby, it’s done. Gon’ head and sit down, tell Paw Paw to say grace too! Wait baby, where’s King? His daddy ain’t drop him off?” Kweem patiently asked.

Junior looked with confusion, “I haven’t seen him or Uncle Jerry, Ma.”

“Okay, gon’ on now”, Kweem responded with a worried smile. She knew King had not missed a function since he was born. Though disheartened, she sat down after fixing her husband’s and grandson’s plate. Her missing King caused a shock in her brain that she realized this was a flashback of a time that had not happened since she moved out of the country and into the city. It dawned on her that she is in a dream and needs to focus on what this message is that is being communicated. Thoughts started spiraling though her mind. She notated that everybody she knew as a child in her bloodline was there at this family gathering except King. The realization came that this was the exact same dream she had the night before King was murdered.

An emotional breakdown happened at the table while her husband said grace over the food. It seemed as if nobody batted an eye as Kweem cried, life went on for everybody else at the table. As she wiped her tears, she scanned at her family and noticed a change had taken place, Junior became taller and older as though time fast forwarded only for him while Kweem cried. They exchanged glares as the person that she knew was her grandson, was no longer recognizable. The innocence he once held in his green eyes, died and he sat there as a man before her eyes.

“Ma, you okay? I haven’t seen King in a while, but something tells me he ain’t coming back”, Junior spoke with an assurance as he hugged his grandmother.

“I know baby, I know he is not coming back. Thank you, gon’ head and finish eating. I need to go freshen up”, Kweem responded as she pushed away from the table to walk towards her grandmother’s house where an old lady was sitting on the porch in a rocking chair, smiling and watching as though she was the protector of everybody at the table. “Madear?

“Something not right with that boy”, Madear said. She was blind later in life because of complications with diabetes but still had insight as though she had perfect vision. “I say again, Marie, that boy Junior, Something ain’t right with him. But are you willing to do what needs to be done?”

“Madear, I don’t know what you mean”, Kweem said in a very unsure and confused tone.

“Baby, I know you got the sense God gave you. But it is okay, that boy got the same grief on him Elliot had. You will see soon enough”, words were spoken so softly, yet so powerful, as the chair stopped rocking when Madear stood up and walked into her house, disappearing before Kweem’s eyes.

Tears began flowing more abundantly now as she knew something extremely tragic had happened to her grandson. “King? King! That is you! Boy where you been?” A shout came from the table as King came out of the woods where the old sheds were burned. King looked disheveled, sweaty, drained and hobbled as he walked as if he had a bum leg. He smiled and waved as his relatives came to greet him. He just repeated how much he loved everybody and apologized for being late to the function. Kweem ran off the porch with tears still flowing nonstop to hug her oldest grandson. Seeing this, the weakened state of King became fortified with strength as emotions overcame him. He met his grandmother with a tight embrace as he collapsed in her arms.

“Grandma is here baby”, Kweem said positively as she kissed his forehead.

“Mamaw, I missed you. I am so sorry! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” King retorted as the crowd started crying out loud. It is as if the family recognized what had happened and broke the fourth wall of the vision.

Kweem held him even tighter, wiping the sweat off his face while viewing the bullet wounds in his chest and arms. She saw shoe prints embedded in into his skin. The more she studied him, accepting the physical torment he went through, the more his body decomposed before her eyes.  A moment that only she could recognize as a Seer. “Let’s get you up, let’s me make you a plate. You need your strength baby, you’re falling apart”, Kweem told King as she began to position him on his feet.

“Yes ma’am, I will eat”, King smiled as he looked at his grandmother, “help me uh…” His words lodged in his throat as he looked upon the only family member that did not come to greet him, Junior. Junior sat at the table eating the chicken, greedily stuffing his face as he became covered in his grandfather’s homemade barbecue sauce. Kweem’s focus shifted from one grandson to the other as her eyes recognized that it was not barbecue sauce on Juniors hands, but blood.

“Long time no see cuzzo”, Junior said smacking while he shoved another piece of cooked flesh down his esophagus. “All well?” He asked with a condescending smirk.

A change came over King as he looked upon Junior. King’s peaceful demeanor switched as he became filled with pure aggression and adrenaline, King lunged. At an instant, Kweem saw King’s decomposed body become what it once was, or what is supposed to be. As though he entered perfection and gained his glorified body. The family looked on in surprise as King landed on Junior and preceded to mercilessly punch Junior in the face, knocking both men to the dirt below. With each punch, a warrior scream was emitted out of King and yelps of pain leaked out of Junior’s mouth that matched blood. Each punch of retaliation, King became stronger until his relatives that had passed on grabbed him and pulled him off. There was a line drawn at that moment between the living and the ancestors with Kweem and Lucille stuck in the middle, watching everything that transpired. 

“You did this! You did this to me! My son!” King yelled with fury radiating out of him through each word. The ancestors that pulled King away from Junior’s battered body carried him into Madear’s house, while the living checked on Junior. Junior slowly regained consciousness and was astonished as he looked around and saw the disappointed gazes toward him.

“I- I am sorry Mamaw. I am sorry”, Junior stated as his head drooped down looking at the blood on the ground where he sat. “Don’t leave me”, he begged as he turned attention to Madear’s house and reached for it. He wanted to go too, out of guilt or maybe out of his own demons he had been battling.

“Your time is coming soon.” Kweem knelt beside her blooded grandson, “It is coming soon. Madear told me I would see and I do now.” She patted Junior on the back and kissed him on the cheek as she got up and walked towards the woods with the other living relatives. Junior stopped reaching for the house and started crawling towards the woods in a fit of regret.

“Lucille, you coming?”

“Honey, I think I’ll stay here awhile, enjoying this time here. I see the Skye coming and she is beautiful.” Lucille spoke with that familiar insight that Madear was gifted with.

“Child come on, it looks like it’s about to storm”, Kweem said as she waved for her cousin to come on.

Lucille picked up Junior, hugged him and walked him to the woods. “Oh, the Skye is just crying, it’ll let up soon. I need to find my grandbaby anyway. I love you, Marie.” Lucille spoke softly as she waved at her cousin and her children and turned towards Madear’s house, smiling.

The dream became a vision of things to come or maybe that have already happened. Either way, Kweem awoke suddenly with a peace of mind unexplainable to man’s understanding. With a renewed vision, Kweem began her day by cooking breakfast and setting some food alongside the altars. After her morning affirmations and prayers, she grabbed four pennies to soak them in distilled vinegar and camphor as a cleansing method. She rubbed the pennies in her hand with the intention of putting her energy in them. This was her divination. She spoke clearly when asked her question, “should I talk to Junior?” Kweem proceeded to toss the pennies on the table to get her answer. Two heads and two tails. So, she repeated the process, since it was a balanced answer. This time it came to be four heads, which is a definite yes.

At the time she knew her grandson would be at Ms. Barry’s for lunch. Michelle Barry was an old church friend that tried her best to do her part in bringing peace into a gang enriched territory since her son is doing life in the penitentiary behind the Breed organization. She created a store right in the middle of the rival organization’s territory but as a safe place. She figured she would rather have a place where the young boys and girls can come to relax, get some genuine love and food. Michelle would give free food to the kids that did their homework in her office, showed good grades on their report cards, and the pregnant teenagers. She was beckon of light in the community, but that light dimmed when Ace members brought a war of vengeance to her doorstep. Kweem never blamed Michelle for the death of King, she knew it was not her fault. She understood the type of character Michelle has to even be chosen by God to have this mission.

“Kweem! I am so sorry”, Michelle hugged Kweem tightly, “come on have a seat, you want something to drink?” The ladies sat down in the office of Ms. Barry’s store, Kweem noticed the bruises on Michelle’s face. It has been over a week since the incident and Michelle bruises are still prevalent. 

“No ma’am, I am not going to stay here too long. Michelle, are you okay? I know you went through a lot this last week”, Kweem began to speak as Michelle slowly sipped on her coffee, nodding her head. “Can I ask what happened that morning, to you and my grandson?”

“Yes… yes of course Kweem. You know King has always been good to me.” It became known very quickly how close to her mental limits Michelle was taken to. “Nothing was out of the usual that morning, except it was a lot more activity going on outside when I opened the door. There was a big man, dark skin with cornrows, he looked familiar, but I never knew his name, he came in asking if King came in. I told him no, not yet and he left out. Then I saw Junior, which was amazing to me because I thought he was in prison like his daddy… sorry. He came in and hugged my neck, and we had a brief conversation, mostly about how he been and I prayed for him. He told me he just got out and wanted to come here to check on me before going to your house.”

“Yes, I remember, he came to my house and sat with me for a few hours before we got word about what happened.” Kweem added to the story.

“Uh-huh, I believe it. So, a few minutes went by and a lot of them young boys started pulling up, I thought it was going to be a busy day, so I had my cooks start making more food just in case we ran out of what was already presented. Then I seen King walking with little Dami. They came in and spoke like usual; I picked up Dami, that boy has gotten so big and handsome too.” This moment was planted in Michelle’s brain as a stained memory. She took a deep breath then sipped on her coffee before continuing. Kweem sat next to her and grabbed her hand, silently reassuring her friend that she was not alone.

“Next thing I know, I was grabbed, I don’t know how many it was, but I was taken to the kitchen. I tried to fight back but I am not as strong as I used to be. I was blindfolded and gagged to prevent me from screaming and shouting. Kweem, I was so terrified. But I kept pushing myself to speak, demanding they let me go. They started hitting me”, she started sobbing at reliving the memory. Sobbing turned into uncontrollable shaking, so much that she dropped her coffee mug and started to softly touch her bruises.

“Michelle, if its too much please stop.” Kweem said concerned for her friend.

“No, I need to get it off my chest. Who else will listen? The police only took my statement then nothing, no arrests were made. Just another nigga dead to them. That boy was a father and was doing is damnedest to change this city!” The passion that Michelle expressed had put Kweem in awe. But Michelle was kind of revolutionary in her own way. “I heard some scuffling in the store, then the sound of Dami screaming for his daddy broke my heart, and I was in the back in my own pain and couldn’t get to him. Then I heard the shots. I don’t know how many, but I knew then. 

“Then it was silent. Except for the whimpers of little Dami. When I was able to be free, I ran as fast as I could to get to him. Dami was lying next to his dad in his blood, begging him to wake up. Dami’s face was sliced open baring his teeth, but he was focused on his father. I grabbed him, knowing too well that the boy had seen too much already, in my failed attempt to mask him from the view of his father.”

Kweem let go of Michelle’s hand to cover her own face as the torment of what her great grandson witnessed happen to his father. “That’s why he has been so quiet.”

“I called the police and Yulivette to come get Dami. All I could do was hold him tightly as he cried and asked what happened to his father. Yulivette came faster than the cops did. I wish I could have stopped her from viewing King lying there but I couldn’t.” Both the women sat in silence and tears hit the floor beneath them.

“What is so frustrating about it, I knew all those boys that were there, I couldn’t see them, but I recognized all of their voices.”  The silence was broken by Michelle’s words.

“I need to see Junior”, Kweem urgently said.

“Junior?”

“Junior”, the ladies’ eyes met as though they were having a conversation of their own to which acceptance was made between the friends. The old friends held hands and shared a short prayer of healing and forgiveness. 

Kweem gave Michelle a hug in thanks and wiped her tears as she made her way back home to call her cousin Lucille. As she walked to the porch of her residence, her grandson Junior was heard before she laid eyes on him. Junior had a 1989 cutlass that had more bass in the trunk than tread on the tires, but it was known in their neighborhood. Mister Disturbing the peace is what the elder’s called him. Junior usually turned his music down when he came to visit Kweem but this time he drove up in a hurry.

“Ma!” Junior shouted. Junior was always a big baby around his Kweem. After his father took a murder charge from one his associates, Junior basically been on his own. He moved in with his mother out of state when he was ten, but he always kept in contact with his grandmother.

“Ma, I just got off the phone with Cousin Lue. Cousin Lucille passed away last night.” 

Kweem was shook by the news but not surprised, “I had a dream last night baby, I knew it was close, but we need to talk.” Junior walked to his grandmother and put his arm around her shoulders and helped her walk up the stairs to sit on her front porch. As they sat together, Kweem shared her dream, not all of it. She left out the part about King, but she noted about the barbecue sauce turning into blood on Junior’s hands. 

Junior knowing about his grandmother being a conjurer was shocked but interested in what she was saying. With a slightly confused look, he asked, “what did I do when the sauce turned into blood?”

“You just kept eating. Elliot Marcel Smith Junior, what have you been battling with? Something is on your mind; I can look in your eyes and tell. They aren’t as innocent as they used to be”, she spoke consciously to her grandson while touching his face softly. Junior leaned in as this was his comfort. Out of all the places in the world, his grandmother’s house was where he could be human, he could be fully himself. This was the place he could come to escape the murders and the tragedies he experienced in his young life. He knew his grandmother was the healer to this neighborhood, but even more than that, she was the healer to his soul. The only two people he wrote while he was locked up were King and their grandmother Queen Marie, the other family members he reached out to through them. 

The streets took over Junior’s life, but in this moment, he was a child again. The peace he craved was only supplied by his grandmother.  Junior broke down into tears due to his spirit being overfilled with guilt, but he did not speak a word, he just cried as he leaned more into his grandmother seeking more comfort. 

“Was it worth it?” Kweem asked her grandson as he rose from her embrace, confused as the words shook his very foundation. “Elliot, was it worth it”, Kweem said again, more of a demand than a question.

“Ma, I… uh. Ma, I have to… I have certain things I must abide by. Certain principles I have to live by to survive in this world. At times, people have to lose who they are in order to keep those principles alive and well”, Junior lowered his head and spoke in a serious tone. “For me to keep my position, anybody and everybody is up for grabs. I learned that from my father, who learned it from his father, your husband”, his head rose as his eyes shifted again to what has become his normal. A soulless depth in his light brown eyes that sent Kweem reeling into a rollercoaster of thoughts and emotions. 

Kweem lowered her head as Junior stared at his grandmother in dominance. “Madear told me that I would see. I see it clear as day now. You transgressed against this family! But” Kweem softly spoke as tears started welling in her eyes, “I don’t know if I am willing to do needs to be done. Junior, you are dead wrong. The ancestors know who you are and what you have become. And I can no longer protect you.” Her words struggled to come out as though each syllable was lodged in her throat. Kweem slowly got up, kissed Junior on the forehead, and walked into her house and locked the door. 

*

Junior, still seated on the front porch, understood what just transpired. He knew that his grandmother knew what atrocity he committed. He understood why his grandmother locked the door; he just could not accept it. Junior got up in a hast and threw himself into the door, praying to himself that his one lifeline to humanity did not just shut him out. He punched and kicked the door violently as though he was fighting to escape his own mental hellhole. He stood, and shouted for his grandmother, but his begging fell on deaf ears. Each knock became less powerful as his soul filled with a deepened rage. His mind could only comprehend that his actions were due to the people he loved turning their back on him when Junior needed them most. Now, his grandmother, the last piece of his heart turned her back on him as well. The rage he felt absorbed his tears as he walked to his car. The chain inside of him snapped releasing the pain he had under lock and key deep in the crevices of his mind, only a laugh was heard.

Nigga couldn’t help out his flesh and blood; nigga took Ma away from me now too! Fuck that dead bitch. Junior thought as he drove away. 

*

Kweem sat at her altar for her grandmother and cried as she clinched her chest. She never thought she would face so much loss of her loved ones. She cried more as her grandson banged on her door, every inch of Kweem’s body wanted to open the door and let Junior in so she could embrace her grandson again and let him know that she did forgive him. She led her life to be a safe place for her descendants just as her grandmother was for her children and grandchildren. Kweem was conflicted between what her mind knew was right and what her gut knew as true; Junior was too far gone to be saved. Her mind played back into the last conversation she had with her son Elliot senior, when she begged him to leave the gang life alone. Kweem was getting through to her son by being honest about her failures protecting her children from the environment she moved them to, which created a need to survive in the inner city. A week before he was set to get out of prison, a rival murdered him in cold blood. She recognized the difference between senior and junior, Senior felt remorse for his actions, Junior did not have a lick of accountability and Kweem could no longer continue to be his enabler. 

Kweem’s heart was softened as she rocked back and forth to the rhythm of the pounding Junior was giving the door outside. Her tears dropped to the floor as she spoke silently to her grandmother’s spirit for guidance. A few moments went by as the knocking stopped, but the sound of a revving engine and deep bass took its place. The house fell silent as Kweem sat there still crying, still rocking, still in pain. In that moment of silence, Kweem fell into a trance where she was able to see beyond the reality of what she was currently living in. A quiet whisper filled her soul and traveled into every part of her body as she was able to feel every word.

“You did good Kweem” the familiar voice said, “keep your head up towards the sky, I know it hurts right now, but you did the right thing.”  Kweem’s trance allowed her to recognize the voice, and the sense of relief came over her once she knew Lucille was talking. 

“Lucille, baby, I-” Kweem’s words were cut short.

“Hush up now guh.” Another familiar, soft voice spoke.

“Madear?” Kweem’s calmness became heavy yet the peace she felt resounded in her very being.

“Yes baby. It’s me. I told you you’d see. Just stay calm, stay prayerful. King is doing just fine; he will come to you soon enough.” Madear’s words were heard with every fiber in Kweem’s tearful being. “Junior will face the reaper soon enough. I just need you to do one thing.”

“Yes ma’am”, Kweem responded.

Madear and Lucille’s arms were intertwined as they started fading, simultaneously, the trance started to wear off. “Continue to be there for Prince, Keyona, and Damian. They will face a lot of grief and uncertainty in the years to come, but you will be their constant reminder of peace and resilience. Time will come soon child, it will.” Kweem nodded with a smile in agreement because she knew what her grandmother was hinting at. “Chickens will always come home to roost, and Damian is key.”

Both Madear and Lucille nodded and returned to their afterlife as Kweem woke out of her trance, wiped her tears and wrote what she saw in her book of roots. 

*

Time flowed by fairly quickly as Kweem finished writing in her book of roots. She took a deep breath as she accepted her mission. Kweem walked to her purse to grab her phone and called Yulivette to ask permission to come visit to which Yulivette gracefully accepted her late husband’s grandmother request. Around fifteen minutes later, Kweem enters King’s residence where she greeted with love and kisses from her great-grandchildren Prince, Keyona, and Damian as Yulivette watched from the door, hiding her tears. Kweem grabbed both of Yulivette’s arms, looked her in the eye and calmly spoke life to her, “this is not your fault baby girl. I know King is gone, but your family is still here. I am here with you. I know you are hurting, it is okay to cry. I will be here as long as you need me to.”

Yulivette’s already shook demeanor rattled as she fell into Kweem’s arms and cried, “I should have been there! Why did they kill him! King was a good man!” Kweem held her with the purpose of consoling her as the children now watched their mother in her state of emotional distraught.

“Churrin, y’all go on to the next room, I’ll be in there once your mom is okay,” Kweem told the kids.

Dami looked the most concerned, Prince quickly picked up him consoling his little brother as Keyona stayed with the older women.

“G-Ma, is Mommy going to be okay? She hasn’t cried since Daddy died”, little Keyona said as she focused on her mother’s well-being.

“Yes, baby. Great Grandma got this. Go on to the next room baby. I’ll make y’all dinner soon.” Keyona walked slowly to catch up to her brothers. It took a few minutes, but Yulivette did get her together enough to go in the room with her children after telling Kweem thank you and telling her how much she is appreciated. “No need for the thanks baby. Lord, please let this be the last generation to suffer!” 

Those words stopped Yulivette in her tracks as she slowly turned back to look at her grandmother in law, she smiled in agreement and whispered, “amen.”

After dinner was made and devoured by Yulivette and the children, Kweem braided Keyona’s hair while Prince showed off his boxing skills and bragged about how he will be the next heavyweight champion of the world. Damian walked to the back patio, where King would sit and write poetry, and would stare at his father’s old desk. This time he was not sad as he had been every day for the past few weeks since his incident. Damian would sit there for hours, sometimes he would speak towards the desk, other times he would just sit silently. After an hour or so, Kweem walked towards the patio to check on Damian where she found him asleep in his father’s chair. She smiled at the beautiful picture that will become a memory.

She smiled even wider when she saw the silhouette of what she recognized as her grandson standing over Damian. The figure nodded then disappeared beyond the veil as the house creaked as though a weight had been lifted. Gleeful tears welled up in Kweem’s eyes as she observed this moment. She picked up Damian to carry him to his bed, where she tucked him in, gave him a kiss on his scarred cheek and whispered in his ear, “your daddy is watching over you now, his strength is in you.”