[The following information was taken from Creepypasta Case File #008028022670. The following documents were taken from the diary of Mr. Miller, an overseer who worked on the Magnolia Plantation in Louisiana.]
21 October, 1861
Damn these slaves. Damn them all to Hell.
Especially that Aunt Agnes. She is not like the others. She keeps telling me that I am going to pay for my sins. Ha! What does she know?
I have noticed that she has taken to a young boy, about ten years old that is also under my 'care' as the boss would put it. I think his name is Tommy something. That boy cries a lot.
As a Godly man, I would not harm a woman for something she has not done, and Agnes has not done anything but say and do crazy things. But that Tommy boy has done a lot of wrong things. Hanging around with that witch, crying because he claims his bones ache, he's so tired! The boy is in need of a good whipping and that is what he is going to get. Tomorrow.
22 October, 1859
I killed the boy. He did not stop crying! Maybe if he had just shut his mouth and took his beatings like a man I would not have gone that far as to kill him.
Good news is that there are so many slaves in this goddamn plantation that I do not think the boss will suspect anything. I will just bury the body somewhere out of everybody's way and forget the whole thing.
The witch might not notice though. I might have to teach her a lesson to make sure she stays quiet.
26 October, 1861
The boy came back. Tommy came back.
I saw him standing at the end of my bed. His face was all bloody and screwed up just like it was when he finally croaked. His shirt and suspenders hung loosely from his shoulder.
'Please, Mr. Miller. I'm sorry. I promise to be a good boy!' He cried.
'You supposed to be dead!' I shouted at him.
He did not respond. Kept saying that he would be a good boy. His cries kept getting louder. It was not til dawn that he finally shut up and left me alone. Apparently no one else heard him.
I think it might have been that rum I had before bed. Yeah, I think it was just a nightmare. I think this job is finally getting to me.
25 December, 1861
I was checking up on the slaves quarters today when Agnes spoke to me.
'You dont look so good, Mr. Miller.' She said.
I know I dont. I keep having that nightmare again and again. That Tommy boy wont let me sleep. But I dont need no silly slave tellin me that. But before I get to say anythin she interrupts me.
'You should have left Tommy alone. He did not do anythin wrong to you. I told you that you was going to pay for your sins and you have crossed the line, Mr. Miller. If I were you I would just kill myself. He is never going to leave you alone. Not until you buried in the ground, Mr. Miller.'
I beat her a good one for that. But not as bad as the boy. She was still a woman after all. And no Godly man would kill a woman for having a smart mouth, even if that woman is not really a woman, not unless the boss were to say I could.
[Mr. Miller claimed to see Tommy until the day of his death. To this day, nobody knows where he hid Tommy's body. Some people claim that it was Tommy who killed the Overseer, leading the union soldiers to where Miller was hiding or running. In her last days, Agnes claimed that Tommy was trapped to roam the plantation, not allowed to leave until his body was given a proper burial. Agnes left behind a poem that she wrote about Tommy, a silly rhyme that her children spread and now the children sing it when they are playing. The poem below is what she had left behind.]
Tommy Boy,
Tommy Boy,
Was stolen from his Mother.
Tommy Boy,
Tommy Boy,
Was sold to the Governor's Brother.
Tommy Boy,
Tommy Boy,
Was beaten with a Stick.
Tommy Boy,
Tommy Boy,
Was beaten with a whip.
Tommy Boy,
Tommy Boy,
Cried and cried.
Tommy Boy,
Tommy Boy,
Bled until he died.
Tommy Boy,
Tommy Boy,
No longer was he.
Tommy Ghost,
Tommy Ghost,
Would he forever be.
Tommy Ghost,
Tommy Ghost,
Killed the white man.
Tommy Ghost,
Tommy Ghost,
Still haunts the land.
Tommy Ghost,
Tommy Ghost,
They say you are there.
Tommy Ghost,
Tommy Ghost,
Are you here?