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Rated: ASR · Fiction · History · #2096128
A slave gives his while life to serving which is the last thing the slave expects.
Jack bent down and brought his house down to the ground. His agreed gives shook as the force of his own strengthened created a ridge in the land. The plants were dying and he knew it. Most of them wouldn't survive the winter. God help them if they had a drought.
. Faithful as always, he kept working even though he knew he was fading like the plants. What did he care? He was going to die anyways. Like the plants, he was barely useful. Groaning as he raised his hoe he stared at the others around him. Their manacles reminded him of what he was. What he was born as.
. Unlike the others he wasn't chained anger they enjoyed him for that. Most of them hatred him. They didn't understand that even his little freedom was bought as a price. A price meant of them couldn't begun to fathom.A price he wished he never played.
. With the little strength he could muster the moved from one ridge to another. Other than his own ebony skin the only thing he truly owned was the cowrie around his neck. It had been picked by his dear Ebi. The Masters called her Sarah but he called her Ebi. She would always remain his. Not even death could pull them apart.
He brought his hoe down again with the vigour of a tree that had lost all its sap. He remembered his days as a bit in the village. His village beside the sea. The day they were sold was forever trapped in his mind. Not even death could take that memory from him. It was the day he lost his identity.
. The scar that filled his back was plain for anyone to see. Especially under the hot sun. His bare back was a constant reminder that he was owned. That his own name hack wasn't his. He couldn't remember his real name. The one his mother called him. The one his father had given him. The Masters had beaten it out of him.
. He couldn't remember much about his mother and his land. He was bought as a boy. The only thing he remembered about his mother was the way the tears slipped down her cheeks and beat her breasts. He couldn't even remember her face. She was barely a figure in his dreams. Mostly a figure of his wishes. An old slave like him barely had wishes. All he wished for was death. Death so he could join his Ebi.
. "Jack, I heard that the Massa was gonna pay you today for all your hard work." Betty, a young mother of three phases by his side. He said nothing. It wasn't a secret that the masters were ready to let him go. If the blurry figures in the corners of his eyes or the way he bones creaked when he moved were not enough to tell of the years he had served then the stripes on his backs and dog bites on his legs ought to be enough reason for his masters to retire him though.
. He scored under his breath. Slaves never retired. They worked until their deaths. It had been that way for Ebi. It would be that way for him too. "Old jack never says anything."
. "That's because he has enough sense to keep his mouth shut at the right time, " Betty glared at her oldest son Isaiah. Jack didn't doubt that the boy's mouth would lead him him to the loose end of a noose one day. He only hoped that Betty would be dead by then. She had put in all of her time into that boy and yet he was worse than the Masters after a bad day. Jacko continued his work in silence.
. "I'm very sure the Massa invite jack in for a cup of tea and give him a part in the back,'' Isaiah continued.
. "That's enough Isaiah." Betty glared at her son. Jack said nothing. He continued his work knowing that soon her would never have to lift a sickle or house or anything. Soon he would join this his Ebi.
. The setting sun had gone over the hills before the Master called for him. He went to his shack and put on a brown shirt before washing his face. As he started at heirs reflection in the water he sighed. It was only a matter of time.
. He was led to the masters house by a man in a horse. The gentle steps of the horse's hooves brought back memories of a time looking forgotten. As they neared the master's house, he remembered everything he had done.
. He had served the master faithfully. He took the insults and the beatings and stored them somewhere where he hoped they would die. They still came to life in his dreams. He hardly dreamt anymore.
. His master, Tom was sitting on a chair with one of his sons standing by his side. The boys brown hair and blue eyes lit upon jacks features. A painful smile took over Jacks lips. He remembered the days he had spent with this could teaching him about the Lord and teaching him about the birds and the sky and other things. That was until Master Tom found out and... That was a memory better left forgotten.
. Jack lowered his eyes thankful that the beating he had received that time hadn't crippled him.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2096128