Freedom

A Story by Paege

This is actually an essay i had to write. Threw it together in about half an hour. Cross my fingers i do good.

The crack of the whip was sharp and thunderous, followed by the murderous cry of the poor soul who had recently tried to run away. After the Fugitive slave law had been passed, all of those who tried to escape the strong cold grips of slavery, were instantly caught and punished. My thoughts wandered to those who I had known prior to their attempted escape. Some of them were even beaten to death as to warn us to never try to run away.

"Massa's beetin 'ol Russel bad." Nina said to my right. She had always talked bravely about how she was going to run away some day, and have her own feilds to tend to only when she wanted. The basket full of cotton that swung between my dark, calloused fingers, weighed me down, alerting me that it needed to be emptied.

To say I had never thought of being free would be a lie. I always dreamt about standing in a feild of flowers, my arms spread out wide, wind dancing across my closed eyelids. That was what I though it would be like to be free. However, I didn't know how to rid myself of the burden of slavery, nor what I would do when i had. Sure, I could try to run away, but what good would that do? I would just end up getting whipped untill my back was no longer the rich brown that it was, instead turning deep red. So, I lived my life, day to day, doing the chores I knew had to be done, trying to get through the difficulty life itself had presented me with: being a slave.

Eighteen years later

When gossip reached my ear of the thirteenth amendment getting passed, I nearly lept for joy. I was going to be free! All those dreams from when I was a child were finally becoming a reality. Of course there still was the problem of my lack of knowledge on what to do and where to go when I was released from the white mans house i found myself serving in. I waited for my present master to treat us with the news, but it never came. Instead he held himself stiffer than usual and, under thin lips, told us to keep working. I could feel my spirit as it plunged back to earth.

I wasn't sure if I was dreaming or not. He had to let us go right? It was the law, and we were part of the Union, whatever laws they laid down, we had to abide by. I was sure that what he was doing was illegal, or maybe the gossip going around was just some missunderstood soul rambling on, awakening those of us who longed for freedom. My last though brought tears to my eyes. I wiped the sweat from my brow and continued to tend to the rows and rows of prickly cotton.

I awoke the next day to a small, wide eyed girl, whom I had been watching over for quite some time, shaking me anxiously.

"What is it Briana?" I asked worriedly.

"Some white men came down and started talkin' to massa, tellin 'im he has to let us go, 'cause it's the law now." she replied, each one of her short little breaths, puffing up against my cheek. Tears streamed down my face as I scooped her up in my arms and danced around the room, acompanied by her squeals of delight.

"We're free."