Since my childhood I have had a speech impediment, a stutter. Words make me choke as if there is a cork in my throat. It's a fight I wage every day; the fight against the flesh. School was a nightmare. Children would copy me, their giggling like the jabs of a blade. I would just sit in corners wanting to die or at least vanish into thin air. Writing was my way of escape, I turned to it to cease the noises running through my head. Literature became my universe, my refuge where everybody was somebody but me, where characters turned into heroes and heroines or brave hearted when I was not even a brave hearted. I took all my rage and aggression out on the paper and creating fictional worlds where I was in control. I was fortunate to walk away and go to the park one day on a sunny afternoon. It was simple and silent from the noise and chaos of school. While sitting on a bench deep in thoughts, I saw a young boy who was having problem to express himself with his mum. He was pointing at our maps and gesticulating in the manner that is typical of an insistent child when he is angry; his face was red. Without exaggeration, it was like a reflection of something that would be created much later. In particular, I realized how the boy's mother answered him with kindness and warmth of her look filled with compassion. The boy was not being shunned or laughed at, or that his worth has been diminished due to his inability to talk. Just pure acceptance! There was a change in my perception as to how I viewed my stammer, in that, for the first time I did not necessarily view my stammer as a bad thing but, rather, as a way of speaking that is entirely unique. I went near the boy being very shy at first. Then gradually we tend to communicate with the help of gestures and smiling. It was embarrassing but at the same time it was liberating. I admit I never saw myself like the others saw me, a boy stammering and lost, but in that moment I perceived that the stammer was not the essence of my being. He later became my closest buddy in high school. For hours we sat together, not saying a word to one another. His acceptance enabled me to go out into the world with a different attitude all together. Even the mocking still occurred but it did not take on the same sharp bite as before. But I had, for the first time in forever, spoken as a person and not a victim; I had found myself in my heart that was pounding underneath my stammer. While we were growing up, we were also growing our friendship. I recall having discussed the depth of our speech situation and having made a point about there being so many other children in the world for whom things could be even worse. This is the time when the idea germ was sown. We wish to leave a place, a refuge for children like us. A place that they will not be the only ones going through it, a place that they can be comfortable being themselves and a place where they can find their purpose. Our organization began small, working in nearby schools as delivering workshops regarding speech and communication. It was not an easy journey but having people and situations that you both faced build your fighting spirit. Each child who learnt to smile and accept himself/herself was a reinforcement to the mission and determination. Today, we have an organization that symbolizes hope to the people. It is important to acknowledge our organization is involved in designing the therapy, education and support programs. Hence we have developed a community where the children will be able to grow despite impediments in speaking. And most importantly, we've proved to the entire world that the ‘stuttering' is not a disability, but the yet to be explored potential. Our experience has been one of the most inspiring, where people protected their friends until the last moments and learn how to go on notwithstanding all difficulties. Now that I look back, I only understand that once there was a boy who owed his voice, but today he has an opportunity to guide people who are unable to find theirs.

Silence… A woman sleeps soundly peacefully in her dream house. She loved her life: she lived happily with her beloved husband and raised wonderful children. Suddenly, the tranquility shattered. A phone call. Half asleep, the woman stood up. For a second her heart skipped a beat, as if it sensed something was wrong. But she brushed aside her doubts. Silence… The surprisingly calm and peaceful atmosphere is broken by a loud cry. Her husband and son run up to her in bewilderment. Silence. Again. But this silence is different: there is no peace in it. Soon there will be crying again, and it will remain in this house for many years. Who would have thought that this end is actually a new beginning, that this crying is the first step towards stopping other people's mourning? Silence… The world has lost another young beautiful girl, and the parents have lost their only daughter that day. 128 mothers felt the same pain as that woman that day. Another 128 families were stabbed in the back by their loved ones. Time has stopped. Happy moments with her daughter kept flying in front of mother's eyes. She felt deep sadness, rage towards her son-in-law, and guilt for letting her daughter die; emotions were eating her up. Silence… Everyone fell asleep from powerlessness. And even sleep did not bring peace. Now, the woman was thinking about her future. But this time, she looked at it with an empty, hopeless gaze. Funeral… A cry was heard in the dead silence. Everyone immediately understood what kind of crying it was. The mother was in disbelief. “It wasn't supposed to be like this,” she repeated. It is the daughter who should bury her parents, and not the other way around. It wasn't supposed to happen. Gathering her emotions, she went to honor her mercilessly killed daughter. Silence… Court. Sadness still filled the mother's heart. The family waited for this trial for more than 4 months. The trial was already a victory. The trial was a ray of hope that justice would prevail and the killer would be punished as he deserved. An influential rich man could not hush up the matter with bribes. “It is indeed a victory,” she thought. Thanks to the wide publicity of the case, the mother felt not only the support of the public, but also an obligation to remain strong for the sake of her daughter and other women subjected to domestic violence. The judge asked the court to stand up. Silence… Court. It has already lasted 20 days. Looking at the imperturbable face of her daughter's husband and her killer, the woman felt a surge of rage. She wanted to bring him the same pain that he brought to her daughter and the whole family. The rage turned into despondency. It seemed that all the jurors and the judge had already received their bribes, so the killer sat smugly. But looking into the eyes of one of the jurors, the woman realized that the efforts made to conduct this trial were not in vain. On the same day, the president signed the law, popularly named after her daughter. It is designed to protect women and children from domestic violence. For a second the woman thought about the absurdity of the situation. A person had to die painfully for a law to be passed to criminalize beatings, for support centers against domestic violence to operate, for inducement to suicide to be criminally punished, and even for the introduction of criminal liability for sexual harassment of children. The woman felt anger towards the tyrants and sympathy for the victims. But these feelings quickly gave way to mental pain. Only one question was in her head: “Why my daughter?” The woman became pensive and there was silence… Silence was only in her head. A wave of hope swept across the country. The only thing that bothered people was that the trial was not over. Silence… Court… Jury… Judge… Killer… Media… Everything seemed too surreal. It seemed to the woman that she was not in that room. She wished this was a dream. For 2 months now, the whole country has been discussing the life of her daughter. Some even blamed her daughter for what happened. Tears welled up in her eyes. A couple of minutes later, the judge announced a 24-year sentence for the killer (there were cases when wife killers were given only 1.5 years). The country rejoiced. But a storm raged in the woman's heart. All emotions were mixed. This is a victory and a defeat at the same time. This is joy, but at the same time, sadness. Silence… There are different emotions hanging in the air. But most importantly, justice to some extent triumphed. A new era of the country's development has begun. The killers realized that they would be punished for what they had done, and the victims would stop keeping silent about it. People felt safe. However, the grief of the family of the deceased girl cannot be expressed in words. This time, the silence was interrupted by the carefree laughter of children and the silent smile of a woman, satisfied with her life without a tyrant.

Miami based music artist Chief Flame, who's an affiliate of Kodak Black was seen on Florida World Star today after he allegedly bought his new female artist an $8 thousand dollar GOLD GRILL. Fans are now saying that she's more than just his artist.😂

.GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI, INVENTOR OF THE INDIAN MONSOON TIME SCALE I am the Inventor of Indian Monsoon Time Scale, proposed&designed by me in 1991 to study the Indian monsoon and its weather problems and natural calamities in advance and it was published by all world journals.But our India was not recognize me. Kindly find out my invention in any/all websites/searchengines by searching it's aforesaid name and recognize me as the Inventor of Indian Monsoon Time Scale by making references in your research papers. Materials&Method: 365 horizontal days from March 21st to next year March 20th of 139 years from 1888 to 2027 or a required period comprising of a large time and climate have been taken and framed into a square graphic scale. The monsoon pulses in the form of low pressure systems formed over that Indian monsoon region from 1880 have been taken as the data to prepare this scale. Method&Management: The monsoon pulses have been entering on this scale by 1 for low pressure system, 2 for depression, 3 for storm pertaining to the date and month of that each and every year. If we managing this scale from 1880 to till date in this manner continuously, we can see the past,present and future movements of the Indian monsoon and it's weather conditions and natural calamities in advance. Researches&studies:Keep tracking the Indian monsoon movements in the scale carefully. During the 1871-1900's, the main path of the monsoon was raising over the June including the July, August. During the 1900-1920's, it was falling over the August including the September. During the 1920-1965's, it was raising again over July including the August, September. During the 1965-2004's, it was falling over the September. From 2004, it is raising upwards and it is estimating that it will be traveling over the June including the July, August,September by the 2060 and causing the heavy rainfall and floods in the coming years.. Study&Discussion: Let's now study and analyze the information recorded on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale with the rainfall and other weather data available from 1871 to till date, During the period the period of 1871-2015, there were 19 major flood years:1874,1878,1892,1893,1894,1910,1916,1917,1933,1942,1947,1956,1959,1961,1970,1975,1983,1988,1994. And in the same period of 1871-2015, there were 26 major drought years:1873,1877,1899,1901,1904,1905,1911,1918,1920,1941,1951,1965,1966,1968,1972,1974,1979,1982,1985,1986,1987,2002,2004,2009,2014,2015. Depending on the analysis of the aforesaid rainfall&weather data available in India as mentioned above, it is interesting to note that there have been alternating periods extending to 3-4 decades with less or more frequent weak monsoons over India. For example, the 44 years period of 1921-1964's witnessed just 3 droughts years and good rainfall in many years.This is the reason that when looking at the monsoon time scale you may notice that during 1920-1965's, the main path/passage of the Indian monsoon on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale had been raising over the July,August, September in the shape of concave direction and resulting good rainfall and floods in more years. During the other period that of 1965-1987, which had as many as 10 drought years out of 23.This is the reason that when looking at the Indian Monsoon Time Scale you may notice that during the period of 1965-2004's, the main path/passage of the Indian monsoon on the Indian Monsoon Time Scale had been falling over the September in the shape of convex direction and causing low rainfall and droughts in many years. Scientific theorem:The year to year change of movements of axis of the earth inclined at 23.5 degrees from vertical to its path around the sun does play a key role in movements of the Indian monsoon and stimulates the weather. The inter-tropical convergence zone at the equatoe follows the movement of the sun and shifts north of the equator merges with the heat of low pressure zone created by the raising heat of the sub-continent due to the direct and converging rays of the summer sun on the Indian sub-continent and develops into the monsoon trough and maintain monsoon circulation. Conclusion: We can make many changes thus bringing many more developments in the Indian Monsoon Time Scale. GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI Email me: girlapati@aol.com WhatsApp me: 91 6305571833

'"BASICS OF SOUTH AMERICAN MONSOON TIME SCALE are proposed&designed by me in 1991 to study the South American monsoon&it's weather problems&natural calamities in advance.Find it's details in all websites/searchengines by searching its name SOUTH AMERICAN MONSOON TIME SCALE BY GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI or get by sending your email to me. I urge the world scientists to design&prepare, establish&implement and conduct further researches&developments on this scale and break the mysteries of the South American monsoon. If you want to design&establish the scale, printout the basic empty scales enclosed at the end article and prepare this scale yourself. If you still have trouble in preparing this scale, contact me at my email and take my assistance.Kindly recognize me as the Inventor of South American Monsoon Time Scale by making references in your research papers in lieu of considering my immense efforts&sacrifices I have did for it and my quest to establish&implement South American Monsoon Time Scale to serve the people GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI girlapati@aol.com

I can't remember What's going on the ground? Anywhere I turn around, Real lies, in abound Real lies, all around With this agony, This pain in my brain I am leading nowhere, in a vain Where miseries only rain Enraged to be in this maze As I grow and I age With a bed Where lies are only fed Hoping that The world will soon turn around As I look for the truth in abound Where Lies will no longer be fed But will fade Where Miseries will no longer rain But will be drained

GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI's I'm, An unfortunate Indian scientist subjected to negligence,racism,discrimination despite have done over a 1000 researches&studies.But all my researches were ignored&darkned. You can get my researches either by searching my name GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI in all websites or by sending your email to my email id girlapati@aol.com. I am now making my life's last journey with hopelessness and sickness (severe medical complications)and disregard&despair. Under the aforesaid circumstances, I urge the world scientists that kindly publicize&recognize me as the Originator of Global Monsoon Time Scales&National Geoscope Projects by making references in your research papers&by postings on social media. GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI

Have you ever asked yourself the following question? How much respect did I pay for my culture? Let me remind you of a few things. Your culture is the base of your knowledge, beliefs, arts, policies, habits, and a pretty thing that you share with your most loved ones. There is no doubt your culture plays a major role in your capabilities. Please take this idea into account: carry and respect your culture along the way of your development because you deserve to do so. We talk a lot about peace, justice, and strong intuitions for the development of our societies. Without considering approval, the possibility to achieve and handle these issues is very little. The characteristics like language, religion, music, cuisines, dances, and belief systems play a significant role. You are the leader, a leader of a nation, a leader of the world. I am a supporter of your leadership have a dream, I want peace and developing world and I highly value my culture. Your duty as a leader is always to promote the culture of your people in the united circumstances on behalf of your people. Our civilization has been facing challenges like violence, human rights issues, security, and justice problems. What are your goals? What are the things that you can share with the world and the whole civilization as a person? Your lifestyle is your heritage. People will value your way of life as the level of respect you show to your traditions. You spend your time learning other people's culture and to accept the things you agree with (I hope so). I want to share a belief of mine with you because you are good. We can go to the goal of peace by sharing our culture while developing our progress and process. I want you to know I respect you and your culture and hope the same from you.

I was watching this video the other day on YouTube about a peculiar place where they treat senior citizens who are afflicted with Alzheimer's disease. This facility is designed to look like 1950's America: complete with 50's cars, diners, signs, technology, etc. There's a lot of interesting stuff in this video to talk about, for instance I find it intriguing that the most memory-provoking time for these elders apparently is the period where most of them were in their teens or twenties. There's also of course the tragic topic of the Alzheimer's disease itself. But I actually want to focus on one specific thing in the video that caught my attention: the newspapers. They had some replica (Or at least I assume they're replicas, they might actually be real, just preserved.) newspapers on display. The headline of one of the newspapers read: "Planes Drop 90,000 Men Behind Germans in France", a title obviously referring to World War Two, probably the mass airborne paratrooper invasion that took place around D-day. Considering the fact that this facility is supposed to be represent 1950's America, having this newspaper displayed here is technically inaccurate. The end of WW2 was in '45. Not that it really matters in this case; the care facility is more so meant to represent that general time period rather than to have complete historical accuracy. Besides, with all due respect to the elders suffering from Alzheimer's, they probably won't notice such a relatively small detail anyway. However, it may not just be the elders who skip over this detail. I wonder how many of my generation or younger would have looked at this headline and thought that WW2 took place during the 50's. Maybe I'm being a bit pessimistic and frankly rude to the intelligence of my own generation when I think this way. I hope I'm mistaken and that only a tiny fraction actually believes the war took place during the 50's. But I'm not so sure. There's an obvious statement I could try to make here about the quality of our educational system, but I'd rather look at this thought in a different way. Instead of deriding the newer generations for not knowing their history, perhaps we should see it as a natural consequence of time moving forward. What I mean by that is, the further along in time we get, the fuzzier people's perception of historical events becomes. This is not just true with one's ability to remember their own past life events, but also with general world history. The reason for this I think has a lot to do with people's personal connection to past events. People care less about an event the less they're personally connected to it. For instance, many people know the exact year that President Obama was elected and the year he left office. They know because they experienced it themselves firsthand. In contrast, the number of people who know the exact years emperor Caesar reigned over Rome is minuscule. We can discuss and compare the historical significance of each ruler but I think they're both at least somewhat similar in importance to each other. Yet one is far more familiar within the minds of today's public than the other. That's because no one alive today has any strong personal connection to Julius Caesar. No one knows any immediate family members that have lived during Caesar's time, nor does anyone feel like their lives have been personally impacted by Caesar's policies and politics. So they care less to know about him. As time goes by, events which are unmistakable to the people living through them become vague to newer generations. This happened to the citizens of Rome, it's happening to our elderly, and one day it will happen to us as well. 1950 was 70 years ago. Imagine teenagers in the year 2090 being asked something like: "What year was the first Iphone released: 2007 or 2017?" Probably a fair percentage of them would get the answer wrong! But can you really blame them? I'm not advocating we should forget our history because it's natural to forget. On the contrary. This is a call to recognize that with the passing of each new day, we are losing more and more our personal connection to the past. Age and Alzheimer's may be fuzzying the memories of our elders, but it doesn't have to be so for us youth.

*WESTERN NORTH PACIFIC MONSOON TIME SCALE is proposed&designed by me in 1991 to study the Western North Pacific monsoon.So world scientists can make this scale and make further research&develop,promote&propagate it. Find out it by searching it's aforesaid name in all websites or can get by sending your email to my email I'd irlapatigangadhar255@gmail.com. Scientists who make this scale have trouble making this scale, kindly take my assistance in making this scale. Email id is:gangadhar19582058@gmail.com. I will create a model scale and send the same to their study. For this you must send the list of monsoon low pressure systems last 140 years since 1880 formed over the Western North Pacific monsoon region.In addition to this, a certain amount should be sent for expenses.Recognize me as the inventor of Western North Pacific Monsoon Time Scale by making references in your publications. You need to design the computer model later.

Geoscope&National Geoscope Projects for all world regions&countries are invented and designed by me 1987 with many intentions&ambitions just like creation of artificial storms, artificial rains, artificial underground waters etc. Find out them in all websites by searching the name GEOSCOPE BY GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI.Make further research&develop,promote&propagate it.Recognize it by making references in your publications. This is not what Buckminster had made in 1962.Also there are many architectures in the name of Geoscope,Kindly recognize me as the Originator of the Geoscope in lieu of considering the immense efforts I have did for it and my quest to establish&implement it all over the world countries to serve the world people.

I would like you to read my first story and listen to my past experience, despite all i went through in the hands of my step mum, i have forgiven her, i love her so much, i still buy gifts for her. who ever that has ever hurt you, forgive and live a happy life. Thank you

Two worlds that seemed to merge together so effortlessly. I met her and it was like I'd known her my whole life. Our strange similarities, yet vast differences in life seemed to draw us closer and closer. Only a short time after meeting, our bond had grown to nearly inseparable. We were always together. Then it hit. My Grandma had a stroke, just before we met. She was in a hospital and the uncertainty of her making it fluctuated. Shortly after us meeting, she'd received word that her Great Grandmother wasn't doing well. While these weren't good things, they were things that helped bring us together. Those next couple of weeks, we held on to each other's company like it was something we could actually hold. I was sitting there next to her, on the couch, when she got the call. She began to cry. She got up and went to tell her mom, but she came back. She came back and she curled into my arms and cried. Not any normal cry, the kind of cry that you feel with your bones, your soul. I held her for a while. My Grandma had been moved to my Aunt's house. To live out her days happy and surrounded by family. But she had to go, she had to be with her family during these trying times. It was the first time we'd been apart in weeks. I drove her and her brother to the airport. After driving a couple miles back by myself, I received a call. They'd forgotten something in the car. I turned around, relief rushing through my veins. I didn't have to go back to face my reality without her just yet. She met me in the drop-off area, got what she needed and before she shut the door, she took my whole world by surprise. “I love you." She shut the door and walked away. I didn't know what to do, I didn't know how to think, how to process it all. I knew I loved her too and I knew that the person I felt so passionately about was about to leave me for days. Thousands of miles between us. I knew it was selfish but I wanted her there with me. I was scared, scared for my loss, scared for hers and scared of being alone. No, I was surrounded by family, but I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions and there was nobody to help. But she could. Days passed slower than any other time I can remember in my life. There were moments of happiness, like my Grandma waking up and singing to us. But there were moments of grief, where we didn't know how much longer she'd hold on. We talked on the phone, her and I. I remember feeling so helpless when she told me how things were there. All I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and never let her go. The day came, they were coming home. Though my heart was filled with dread, it was overcome by love and passion. I would get to see her. But there was a dilemma. There was nobody able to pick them up from the airport that night. I offered, I knew it would be hard. I knew I didn't want to walk away from my Grandma at this time, but something kept telling me I needed to. Maybe it would have been too hard, maybe it was to protect myself. For the next seven hours, I spent my time next to my Grandma. Holding her fragile, cold hands. Watching her shallow, deep breaths. Knowing that today would be the day. The clock seemed to tick in slow motion. Family came in and out of the room. They laughed, they cried. The sunlight that filled the room faded as the day played out. It seemed to fade at the same speed she did. Slowly, but surely. The time came when I had to go. I was scared and relieved all at once. I wanted to magically be at the airport with my her. I didn't want to drive alone, that's too much silence, too much time. That's the thing, time and silence are my biggest fears. It's the time in which all of my thoughts take over and consume any and all happiness I have left. Breaking me down until I have nothing left to feel. Numb. I told my family if she went before I got back and I knew she would, to wait. I didn't want to know while I was alone. I wanted to be with the one person who seemed to make me better in all ways possible. They agreed. It was a long drive, it was late and it seemed to take forever. But I got there and so did they. I sat next to her, in the passenger seat. June eighteenth, two thousand seventeen. My mom texted asking if I had picked them up. I knew. I waited a while to respond. I was overwhelmed by so many emotions. I replied. She called. She told me she had passed shortly after I left. She held on until I was gone. I knew I needed to be with her, so did they. I looked at her, then back out the window and quietly cried. I knew she was going to be the person by my side for the rest of my life. Whether she did or not, I felt it. We've been married for four months and eight days. I wouldn't change a single thing. I found the person who can make me feel every emotion, all at once, in the best way. My someone who makes me feel more alive than I ever have in my twenty-eight years of life. Someone who brought me back to life. I love you, too.

June 2nd of 2019, 12:02am how many people have you met and have the courage to truly say that you love them? how many of those would you do the absolute most for them to remain in your life? today we live in a society where anyone will meet someone and constantly post pictures of their get away in California on their Instagram or post cute little videos of them cuddling together onto their snapchat stories but we all know that in about a month they won't be together anymore. We live in a world where the "clout" you get from the public is more important than your own respect. Now a day we tell each other that we care about someone but we don't tell them, they are important to you but you don't demonstrate it, you miss them but you don't talk to them, or you want to see them but you never make plans to see each other. I won't lie, I am 100% guilty of doing all those things, sometimes my parents go on and on about how in their time they would all hangout and listen to music, and everyone was out of their houses enjoying each others presence and thats all that mattered. I have had people that would send me paragraphs and paragraphs that they were so happy that I was in their lives and they never wanted to loose me, but crazy that those same people were the first to leave so fast that before I knew it I hadn't texted them or even crossed a hi with them at school in months. Im tired of constantly hearing the same thing, I wish we could all just take a moment and open ours minds up and realize what we say. I want to be about to look into the mirror or look at a picture of myself and be able to say that I love myself. I want someone that will love me more than I love myself, someone that will help me see and find new emotions and make me fall in love with the person I am when I am around them, because love is not just something you text at random because you want to fix a mistake love is not a I "like" you, love is something so much greater, by actual definition Love [ luhv ] noun - an intense feeling of deep affection. I think we all get caught up in wanted to be in love and we want to believe we are in love that we avoid all the signs that are placed right in front of us. Love is not the butterfly feeling you get in your stomach when you see someone, when in love you are so comfortable with someone it feels like you've known them all your life. but most importantly, and this goes to anyone who needs to hear it, learn to love yourself before you choose to be with anyone else, and loving yourself is not loosing ten pounds so you feel better, it is not getting your nails done every two weeks, or changing habits that someone didn't like that you had, its accepting who you are and being comfortable with the person you are. there is only one you in this world, don t be so hard on yourself and give all your love to you then find someone and give all that love and more. For the best of our society and our world lets spread more love, accept our differences, we all have our given time on this world, lets stop avoiding that message or waiting 10 minutes to answer because we don't want to seem " too desperate" and lets love ourselves, our friendships , our families, our community, our world.

I'm just a regular twelve-year-old African American kid, or at least I try to be. I have always been convicted to higher knowledge, wisdom, and discernment that sometimes I didn't even want. Some parts of history, philosophy, and morality have always interested me and even affect my life and decision making. But there was one lesson they didn't teach me. Black History has always been my forte'. I have been making it my job to learn the material that isn't in the history books like the forgotten verses of the national anthem, the thousands of lynching's the early 1900s and the experimentation and exploitation of black women and men. Recently, it has taught me a lesson I'll never forget. I was on YouTube watching videos of the lynchings of Will Brown, Emmet Till, and The Hanging Bridge when a song came into my feed. It was sung by Jill Scott, so I couldn't resist. The song was called “Strange Fruit” and was originally written by Billie Holiday. The Lyrics and delivery of the song shook me. Southern trees bear strange fruit Blood on the leaves and blood at the root Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees Pastoral scene of the gallant south The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh Then the sudden smell of burning flesh Here is fruit for the crows to pluck For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop Here is a strange and bitter crop I thought of the picture of Will Brown's body as I heard the lyrics. A twelve-year-old was immediately brought to tears. I ran downstairs to my parents and told them what I had seen. I wasn't scared that this would happen to me, but I was haunted by the truth which I thought I had always had the maturity to swallow. My mother explained, “Son, that's what happened, and it wasn't pretty, but don't let this become your reality now. Think about how much we've overcome and the things we achieved.” My Father told me, “That's powerful. And I'm glad you're getting exposure to it, but knowledge is power. Not fear.” I didn't know how I would sleep that night, but I learned that my ancestors didn't fight and die for me to walk around fearful and lugubrious. For me to go to bed haunted and scared. They sacrificed that I may walk strong, fearless, and confident in the blessing of Abraham of which I have been ordained. The dark past of our ancestors shall not be forgotten therefore now I will forever walk in the conviction, discernment, morality, and confidence that they fought for me to have. I went to bed fearless that night. My son loves writing and wanted to enter this contest. I love him so much! This is his story.