A.N. Erm...yeah. Not entirely sure that this is the right place, but it's certainly close enough. This is actually my English homework from a couple of weeks ago, but I realised two paragraphs in that it was such a fanfic, it might as well go on here. Ya.
Category: Nightjohn (Gary Paulson)
Rating: K to K+, depending on how sensitive you are.
Author: Feliney~x
A long, hard time had followed. The pit school had brought me knowledge-I knew all my letters, right up to 'Z', and I could make many words from them. But somehow, all of this knowledge could not bring me freedom, as I had neither the speed nor the energy to run far enough to get to the north.
Nightjohn moved on very soon after all of us at the pit school had learned our letters, moved on to carry on his teachings elsewhere. I continued to teach for him at my plantation-taught Mammy and the young ones everything I knew. Not that it did Mammy any good, not in the end. She died five years ago. It was old age that took her, nothing else, and she fought it right until the bittersweet end. Old Waller wasn't happy when she passed away, but what could he do about it?
I tried not to feel angry after Mammy's death-I tried to think of it in a more positive light, that she was finally free from this life, free to roam as she pleased, with no Waller, no ugly white man with maggot skin to stop her. But it hurt, losing her-she was the only family I had ever truly known, especially since my birth mother was sold. Mostly, I missed her company, her scoldings and her insight.
Still, I have my girls for company now-Evie, Renn and Delie. I named Delie for Mammy, as a way to remember her and a way to honour her memory. Evie was named for Eve, the girl in one the many Bible stories I read when I was in the chapel with all the other slaves, sat away from the white folks. Renn was named for a girl in the first story that I ever read. Evie is the oldest at seven, then it's Renn at four, and Delie, my youngest, who's two. When they were first born, I wasn't allowed to look after them-I had been used as a breeder, and so they were passed on to Mammy. She looked after them well, but I wanted their company. But finally, I got what I wanted, after a fashion. Or rather, after an accident.
It was the middle of fall, all the leaves were turning beautiful colours and then falling, tumbling down to the ground. We humans all loved it, but the horses didn't-it often spooked them, and one day I happened to be standing too close when it took fright. The horse reared and bucked, yanking itself free of the chains that held it to the barn wall. There was a terrifying crunching noise as the wood splintered and cracked. It galloped towards me-I had no time to run, or even move out of it's way, so it trampled me. My back and ribs felt as though they were on fire, there was a dull ache in my leg. The pain was beyond anything else I have felt. I remember being aware of being carried back to the quarters, and being laid out on the floor, and then nothingness. Five days, apparently, I was down for. I was in that strange kind of sleep where you can't be woken up with a bucket of cold water. When I came to, the fires had dulled a little, to a fierce flame, but every time I moved, the flames returned. Another week, I lay there, before finally I began to heal properly and could start moving around. Old Waller wanted me to work, but he soon realised that I would never be able to work in the fields again. So he put me in charge of the young ones.
I loved looking after all the young ones, especially as it hadn't been very long since Delie had been born. I was so excited that I would be able to raise her properly, as my daughter. I was able to look after Evie and Renn, look after Alice's baby, and Mary's too. I taught all of them as I had been taught myself, all the lessons I had ever been taught-reading, writing, manners, how to behave…everything. Looking after them all was often a tiring and tedious job, as Delie seemed to nothing but cry, all day and all night, but somehow I took pleasure from that, and I think everyone else did too. There were certainly never any complaints.
People were bought and sold all around me, and yet somehow, I seemed to be the only one who stayed. It almost felt as though the entire plantation revolved around me, though I knew that wasn't true. Old Waller said himself that I was important. I was proud. Too proud.
The day that Mammy died was long and hard, filled with sadness and grief. The old age took her slowly, making it harder and harder for her to breathe, so that in the end she was wheezing loudly, every breath more painful than the last. It wasn't a dignified way to die; it wasn't the way that she wanted to die. She wanted to go peacefully, in her sleep. When she eventually did die, she was asleep, but it wasn't quite peaceful, because of all the build-up to it. Although it was almost a relief when she died, I felt a part of myself die with her. I was glad that she was finally free of the pain, but I wished that she'd never had to go through it all in the first place, all the suffering and struggling. She made me promise to fight on, to battle the white folks for her, and to win, to get free. So I fought and I taught to help me take my mind off things, and it worked, for a while.
But I won't be here for much longer, I don't think. I keep hearing that Old Waller plans to sell me like the measly slave that I am. I'm unimportant now, an insignificant part of the place, and the second you become insignificant, you get sold. He plans to sell my daughters with me, and I think that that will be my only saving grace out of this, the only way I will have the strength to carry on fighting, to carry on being who I am. Evie often speaks to me, when she hears new snippets of information about us.
"Mama, are you ok?" she asks, almost constantly.
"I'm fine," I reply, though sometimes it's the truth and sometimes it's a lie.
"Old Waller says we going somewhere new, but he won't tell me where," she tells me, that snippet rarely changing.
"He be selling us Evie, we be somewhere new soon," I tell her, and she struggles to keep her composure. This place, these people, they are all she has ever known, and they are as attached to her as she is to them. Each time it strikes her as though it is new news to her, and her face scrunches up as though she is ready to wail like little Delie. "Hush now babe. Don't cry. We be able to do some good when we go, you see that," I tell her, and she agrees, instantly seeing the truth. Her eyes betray her true emotions, but for the most part, she is calm, and I am grateful for that.
I often pity Evie. She is the oldest of my girls, and yet has spent the least amount of time with me, but somehow accepted me before even Renn did. She is only just seven years old, and yet deals with things that I could not even comprehend when I was her age, that I would have struggled with up until about eight years ago.
My beautiful girls. My one saving grace throughout all of my life, and now I have to lose them, for Waller has changed his mind. These girls will grow up to be strong and fine, good for field work and good for breeding. So it is just me that he will be selling, and leaving them behind will be the hardest thing that I have ever done. But now that they do not shackle me to a place, I think it is my best time to try getting free, getting to the north. I will come back, visit them, help them, and eventually get them the freedom they deserve also.
But now I have to go. Old Waller is dragging me by the arm, pulling me down towards the fork in the road where the buying and selling takes place. I look around-today is a perfect day. Not too warm, yet not cold. Skies blue and cloudless, not a hint of rain, the only water coming from the eyes of my friends as the tears roll down their cheeks. Every slave is gathered round, and briefly, I think back to the last time I was here. I was merely a spectator that time, watching and listening as the white folks haggled over price and terms until finally they came to a compromise and shook on it. I remember the clink of the money changing hands, and hear that dreaded clink now. I break free, sprinting back to give Evie, Renn and Delie one last hug. I look to Alice who is already stood over them protectively.
"Take good care of them Alice," I tell her, a warning tone in my voice.
"I will, Sarny, I will," she replies, and there is a break in her voice that suggests that she is a mixed-up and devastated as I am now. I wince as the hand goes around my arm, closely followed by the coldness of a shackle around my neck. Wryly, I think back to John, the last person I knew to be shackled like this, and a small wave of pride sweeps through me. I feel dangerous, almost, cunning, as though I am as good as John was, as though they will treat me the same.
I whimper slightly as I am yanked away to my new life, away from all those whom I have ever loved. I push the thoughts to the back of my mind, and sing to myself. I sing my letters, and feel more free than I have in a very, very long time.