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Atticus Monologue

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The night air is warm in Maycomb, perhaps even welcoming one on a nightly stroll. Perhaps on any other day, I’d relish the air and the newspaper in my hands. Not tonight. Tonight, the humid and warm atmosphere tortures me; it drives me crazy. It adds to the already strenuous mood. Desperate for a distraction from the waiting, I focus my attention to the newspaper in my hands. Scanning for any interesting stories, I flip through the newspaper. Insults hurled toward me, words of anger tossed at Tom Robinson. Despite the foul things that were written, I could not find a place in my heart to hate these people. Each and everyone was a person I had known since my childhood, each knew me, yet they let their good judgement be blinded. I look back at the jailhouse, curious if the …show more content…

“You don’t need to call me sir. Just Atticus will be fine” I say back. It felt wrong for him to call me sir when I had only called him Tom. Another injustice of Maycomb. One race demanded respect from the other. One race was superior and the other inferior. “Yes...Atticus.” This time, his already quiet voice was even quieter with a note of surprise. Satisfied, I continued to read. In the distance, I can hear the sound of car engines. I brace myself. It is almost time. Almost time for the lynching mob to arrive. Four cars drove down and stopped in front of me. My body tenses, nervous. Men file out of the cars. Each of them is a familiar face. I know each and everyone of their names. All men from the Cunninghams from Old Sarum. Yet, when they look at me, they look at me as if they are strangers. I fold my newspaper and let it rest in my lap. “He in there, Mr. Finch?” Another face in the crowd asks me. “He is and he’s asleep. Don’t wake him.” I strain to keep my voice steady. My heart is thumping in my chest, heavy beats like a drum. To my surprise, they do not raise their voices. We continue talking in

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