David's Story.
When I was a boy I wanted to be just like my father. From the dirt under his feet and the sweat from his body he had built our plantation. He was hardworking and was a devoted father and beloved husband. He along with my mother Evanthia migrated to South Carolina from England. My mother was Greek, my father an Irish merchant whom by fate met my mother on a lonely passage between routes. They never truly explained much to us children. My sister use to always say they were star-crossed lovers rejected by the families they loved. She'd always make my father laugh .He was always teaching me life lessons in which they both always seemed to find humor in. I was proud to be his son and I dreamed to have a home of my own, and a family like that my father, was my life.
When I turned 13 years old I found myself becoming detached from the boys my age, I felt strange. I'd often draw my mind in a magic play land. I couldn't help but feel I was missing a piece in life that a normal person could not feel or see. The world around me failed to please me. My mother wanted me to become successful, a doctor perhaps. It was unfortunate schooling was not one my strong points. I can't help but feel in a way I disappointed her. But my mother would kiss my forehead and checks and say just how proud of me she was. Now mother are you proud of me still I wonder? At the age of 16 I quit school to work with my aging father in the fields along with our few slaves. My father had always a weak spot for punishment, which is the nature of his kind heart. Our slaves were part of our small family. Nonetheless, my sister could not stand having slaves.
My sister……..
My little Amenuette, she was always a wild bird. She was lovely, stubborn to the core. My mother loved often to tease my little sister allowing her name to change to Hera, the Queen of the Gods. In 1860, the name Hera would of earned a hanging. My mother told us stories by the fire about the Greek gods of old times. My little sister seemed to soak up my mother's words. Mena would dance around and chatter about how wonderful it would be to meet the Goddess Venus. Her hair perhaps like Venus was golden like the sun accompanied by two big green eyes that swarmed with emotions Her skin was darker like my mothers, not so Irish like mine. I envied her often she would shine in the light, but she'd remind me that I was a night owl and must glow in the moonlight. She was the only one who could make me smile. Mena was rambunctious; she was constantly bouncing up and down the plantation spreading her endless energy everywhere the sun's heaven like rays touched.
The sun…..
I was 17 years old when I joined the confederate army. I wanted more than anything to make my parents proud of me. I had only achieved failure in my young life. I remember the day I left home. My mother was so proud and pleased she thought for sure with my
exceptional hunting and rifle skills I'd whip those Yankees. I remember her, she was wearing a light blue dress the color of her eyes, her chocolate hair escaping from under her bonnet. She held a linen hanker chef clasped tightly in her small fist. My father was beaming down at me ( he was several inches larger then I.) My sister only 12, was disappointed. She hides herself in the house. She didn't come to wish me a farewell. I knew my leaving would break her heart. She was scared. I knew my father was strong enough to protect them both. He wouldn't let them down.
I was wrong.