Narrative Essay On To Kill A Mockingbird

745 Words2 Pages

When I was a child, I trotted through the vast field of my parent’s farm. I tugged on the vines as I galloped past the tall barnhouse. My mother would call for me when it was time to attend our Sunday worship service. As I ran through the yard, and into the house, I would wave to the many animals that had inhabited themselves within the thin wired gates. My tall brown boots shuffled in the mud puddles, and clicked onto the porch. “Please wear your nice shoes today, Caroline,” my mother would beg, and yet I still shoved my dainty feet into the cowgirl boots I had received many moons ago. I fastened my auburn curls into a tight braid at the nape of my neck, and slipped into my Sunday best. Years later, after I finished college, I packed my bags and moved south to Maycomb, Alabama. I shifted my travel bag into the small cottage-like home, that was exactly four minutes from the schoolhouse in which I …show more content…

I turned my cheek at the racist remarks that danced through the long corridor, and flew through the school doors. The night of the trial, my feet dragged in the dirt road, huddling in a tight crowd that was making their way through the tall wooden doors of the courthouse. I inched down onto a padded wooden pew just as the bell rang 12 o’clock. Families scattered frantically looking for the best seat in the echoing room, and the Negroes climbed the stairs up to the balcony. Judge Taylor walked out the door facing the spectators; he placed his plump body in a leather chair, and positioned his gavel to his liking. Sheriff Heck Tate trapsed his lean body to the front of the pews, silently smirking and gathering his papers. Atticus Finch straightened his tie, and comfortingly patted Tom Robinson’s shoulder. My mind buzzed somewhere else until a stern voice said, “All rise, the trial is now in session.” My eyes widened, and my back stiffened. My hands trembled as they called Mayella Ewell to the

Open Document