My story as a slave

My family on the plantation treated me like kinfolk even though I was the farthest thing from it. I was half white, half black. When I was sold away from a smaller farm, the other slaves stared at me as if I was an alien, a freak of nature. The first person to really accept me was Jainee, the little girl in my cabin who was a house servant. At night, she would tell me make believe stories about her escape to freedom. Then one day, she was beaten to death, after spilling a whole meal on the ground. I was taken as Jainee's replacement, but I felt far from it.

I worked out on the fields, picking cotton far past when thorns stubbed my hands raw. Sun up to Sun down of white fuzz, seemingly light weight, but an extremely heavy burden. Overseers flogged me on a regular basis, just because of how I looked, I would get flogged extra hard when my blood stained the cotton red. Finally, I had enough. I was going to play a part in Jainee's dream. I was going to escape to the north.

It was dark and the night sky was littered with stars. I was the only one who planned on escaping that night. I had a small sack of pepper and the clothes on my back. I quietly sneaked to the fence, then crawled under through a small whole. With one last look at what I was leaving behind, I fled amidst the trees. I traveled on foot, following rivers up north. I bit my tongue to keep dead silent and my bag of pepper tight in my and in case of hunting dogs.

I did not meet Harriet Tubman, but I traveled quickly up the underground railroad. T received the aide of three families. The children from the first two were wide-eyed with minds set on asking every question about life as a slave. I didn't feel comfortable answering them, I was just grateful for letting me into the protection of their home. In the third family, there was a girl who was so much like Jainee, it nearly brought me to tears. I wanted to stay, but I had to leave. Staying would have broken my heart in pieces.

In Ohio I found a home with an elderly white lady. For a 60 year old woman, she was quick with her feet and skilled with her hands. We worked at a nearby black smiths almost all day. When September came around, she brought me a book and asked if I could read. After answering "No," she sat me down and taught me all my letters and numbers.

Shortly after I became literate, I heard about the Civil War that broke out among the Union and Confederacy. On a recruitment poster. I read that the army was enlisting. I had to do something for the Union that saved me, so I joined. Some soldiers shot me confused looks, others merely ignored me. Few regarded me as a friend. During my first battles, so many bullets hissed past my head, I wondered how long until they hit me. How many of my shots took lives? I couldn't, and wouldn't, count my death toll. Finally, I took a shot on the battle field. My body jerked and fell to the ground. As the surroundings blurred and faded and as my life ebbed away, I wondered if I would greet Jainee in the Kingdom of Heaven.