A Slave's Life by Monk's Walk A Year Students (ebook reader for surface pro .TXT) 📖

Story 1

Elizabeth Rose

10TH MAY 1775


Dearest Ernest Dominice,
My dear old friend, I bring you terrible news. Hopefully by the time you get this letter my slaves should have returned we have already put advertisements in the daily newspaper but yet no one has replied. When those grieving slaves come back they will regret that they ever escaped due to the fact I will punish them so severely until they sweat blood.
I own 200 plantations and over 500 hundred slaves even though I have never visited all of them I know that they are in good shape if these slaves keep escaping so easily then we need to take control however drastic it may be. I paid a fortune for some of these brats and I can not afford to buy some more just for them to do the same! Some of them try to escape or try to injure themselves on purpose to keep them out of work, well I tell you my friend that this makes me even more angry and I punish them even more I have 3 homes that need taking care of so with the number of slaves dropping the less work that will be done.
Over the years I have gotten to know my estate manager better and have found out that he is very trustworthy but after the incident about the slaves that has just occurred I am starting to question this trust.
If those Negros don’t come back to me within the next week they will be sorry

Yours sincerely
Elizabeth Rose

Story 2

19th May 1775
Dear diary,
Its cold, my limp body is wrapped up in the white man’s clothes. Don’t ask, I don’t want to talk about them. I can feel my chilled bones sticking out from my pale skin. I haven’t slept for weeks, I’m too scared that they will discover our camp and take us back, back to Brocket Estate. Even though I’m having to suffer like this, it’s not me I worry about, no its Annabelle. Annabelle is my nine-year old sister. I have cared for her since she was two and our parents were sold to a different estate. I feel guilty that I left her in that hell of a place. Why didn’t I take her with me? I thought it would be too unsafe, too risky, but now I regret that, nothing is worse than how we are treated at Brocket.
I can hear the owls hooting in the swaying trees above our camp and the crackle of our flickering fire, it is the only bit of warmth we have. Even our hearts are cold inside.
Crack! Wait, what was that, I can hear gentle foot steps, is it? No it can’t be, or could it. Is it the white men?
I can see a shadow lurking in the bushes; I can here quiet whispers, rough breathing, hearts beating. What will the white men do to us? Will it be worse than the cane?
They are coming closer; I can feel suspense hanging in the air. I feel choked by fear; it is getting harder to breath. I don’t want to go back, please, I pray, don’t make me go back! The torturous work, day and night, my hands are red raw from the constant caning, our hardest is never good enough for the white men. I remember that hell, the way they laughed at our pain, work is never done for a negro.
“Come out, we know you are in there, you are owned by Brocket Estate and that is where you belong!”
No, no, no, not Brocket Estate, no…

By Gemma Haggar 8AN

Story 3

12th May 1775

It’s been two days since Faith and Breeze broke into the Cage and rescued us. Since then, we haven’t stopped moving, except for short breaks for … well, you know.
I know why we have to keep moving, but I’m so tired and I don’t know how much longer I can keep walking.
“We’ve just escaped death by over workin’, and now they’re tryin’ to kill us by walkin’!” Joy laughed. Joy has been my best friend since I came here, four years old, lost and crying for my mother. She cared for me and hugged me when things went wrong, even though she was only two years older than me and had harder work to do. Joy gave me my name, Hope.
“You’re my hope, you are.” She explained. I liked it. It was much better than the name the Master and his family had given me. Foxine. I mean, come on. What kind of name is that? I answered to it anyway, but I hated them, hated the sugar plantation, hated everything here in this prison, this cage. After that, I always called it the Cage.
The sun beat down on us, making me feel light-headed and dizzy. I felt myself swaying; saw the ground rise towards me. The bag of food on my back tumbled onto the earth, spilling its contents. The last thing I felt was strong hands gripping me, picking me up. Blackness.


* * *

When I came round, Joy was sitting next to me, singing her lullaby. The familiar words washed over me, soothing my panic.
“Thula, thula, thula, Mtwana
Thula, thula, thula, Mtwana
Ungakhali
Umama akekho
Umama uzobuya”

She opened her eyes, and relaxed her position. She smiled, her face lighting up. No-one could be as stunning as she was; even the sun struggled to be more beautiful.
“You’re awake!” She exclaimed. “Faith! She’s woken up! Bring some of that bread over, please.” She turned back to me as Faith hurried over with a stone hard loaf.
“I was scared that you would never wake up, the whole way here. Breeze felt so awful that he’d pushed us so hard. You do understand why he did though, do you? You know that he never meant to let you get hurt, don’t you?”
I nodded, and she smiled and began to help me sit up. Faith dropped the bread on my lap, and beamed.
“Joy told us off when you fainted. She can be really scary when she wants to!” He grinned at Joy, who laughed.
“And then, poor Breeze had to carry extra stuff so I could carry you!”
I blushed deeply.
“Come on, you!” Joy got up and dragged Faith with her. “We need to talk to Breeze and Akai. Let’s leave Hope to sleep. She needs it.”
“Wait!” I cried. “Where are we? How did we get here?” Joy turned round and lay a warm hand on my forehead.
“We’re on a boat.” She whispered simply. I stared up at her, not sure if I was awake, or if I was still dreaming. If I was, I never wanted it to end.
“We’re on a boat,” She whispered again “To Africa”

Publication Date: 11-03-2009

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