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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Experience · #1314677
Adam and the others start their day off with a flogging.
The next morning Adam was snatched out of his sleep by the overseer Mr. Johnson.

"Get up and go'on outside"

Adam quickly obeyed and he ran outside to join the rest of the slaves, the sun had yet to rise but he could see some slaves, chained together led by a couple of white men.

'Slave Catchers' he thought to him self.

An older slave in the back of the line was being dragged by the other slaves, his leg had obviously been broken and mauled by the slave catchers dogs, but the slaves had to keep moving. No one dared to stop and help him.

Mr. Johnson ordered them onto their knees and he left to gather up the rest of the slaves. After everyone was present Mr. Johnson and the other men chained the run away's to trees. All of the slaves stared in sadness, knowing what was to come next, Flogging.

The overseer gave a slave to each man and kept the one with the mauled leg for him self, he ordered fifty lashes to their backs and chest untill the skin was broken and blood flowed freer than than the slave him self would ever become. The flogging began, slaves cried out for their loved ones but they didnt cry as loudly as the ones being punished. The screams echoed through out the plantation as lights came on in the big house, the Colonel and his family came out into their porch in their night gowns to see what the rucus was about but they didnt come too close. The women of the house quickly retraced their steps. The scene wasnt fit for any woman to witness. When it was all over the bloodied slaves were dragged away to their cabins and a slave woman was sent to rub salt into their wounds to stop the bleeding.

Adam and the others stood around in sadness, mourning the pain of their brothers.

"Get to pickin dat cotton!" Yelled Mr. Johnson

Murmurs of "Yes Massa Johnson" was heard from every slave.

They didnt hesitate and they all hurried off to the field. The ripe cotton buds were gold, shining in the rising sun light. The sight of acres upon acres of shining white gold was breathtakingly beautiful to everyone but the slaves. The only way Adam got through each day was by thinking of Eve. They bent their backs and began picking, the songs of the slave hands could be heard from every direction.

Songs of their longed freedom, songs of Africa.

Massa wont let meh go
Back to ma O'l home
De place of meh birth
Africa, Africa...

Massa jus wont let meh go
Buh death will set meh free
Den no mo africa fo meh
Buh we will den be free at last, Free at last
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