26.
"WE FOUN' HER body."
Beckey's eyes pierce through my clouded vision, looking down on me from above. I sit up, and unfold my hand to see that I'm still clutching the coded paper. My fingers are stiff from being clenched into fists throughout the night. Mama's necklace hangs around my neck.
"Cass? You hear me? We got her body, they foun' it jus' a little ways outside a the estate," Beckey whispers. She holds a candle under her chin which cast a orange glow over her skin and seems to obscure the features on her face.
She think's I'm not listening to her, but I am. I'm just confused, trying to make sense of the situation. I want desperately to be with Mama again, but at the same time I don't know if I can handle seeing her dead, motionless, pale, cold...
"I'm gone help you," Beckey tells me, as if she can read my mind. But although she might be able to figure out what I am thinking, she cannot possibly understand the pain I'm going through, and I suddenly feel so alone and so afraid at the thought that no one can help my feel better.
I lie down on the bed, only to have her lift me up and plant my feet on the ground.
"It's dark," I whisper.
"I knows that," she replies in a soft, patient voice. "But we was thinking maybe we gone...we gone have the funeral now... an' you can say you goodbye and we can get her burie' an' Noah ain't gone see it. Don't know if he'd be 'appy 'bout a funeral for your Mama."
"Why? She jus' a slave like all a us other slaves here an' he were ok wid funerals afore. Why's it different wid Mama?" I voice the question even though I know the answer. In Noah's eyes, Mama was a traitor, and so to him, she doesn't deserve a proper funeral like everyone else.
"Ok, let's do it real quick," I say, heading quietly for the door, so as not to wake the others.
"We got time, it ain't nearly dawn already," Beckey says.
"No, jus' don't want to leave Mama out in the cold."
I see Beckey's lips twist upwards.
She pats my shoulder. I think she's comforting me, or proud of me or something like that.
As I follow Beckey along the edge of the field, I look up at the deep blue velvet sky. The stars are faint, but I can still see them clearly if I squint. The moon is almost full.
The air is warm but the harsh wind sends shivers through my body. It's nearly dawn because I can see where I'm going, which means that the darkness is slowly easing into daylight.
Beckeys takes me to the spacious cabin at the end of the row. Hannah's cabin.
She opens the door and I am immediately struck by the cheery voices and welcoming atmosphere. I look around, surprised. There must be around twenty people here, none of whom are sleeping.
People come up to me and smile and express their sympathy for my loss. I spot Agnes preparing a steaming stew over the fire.
I see two coffins lying on the floor against the wall. I assume that the second one is for Zahhall.
A man with a grey straggly beard and tiny brown eyes waddles towards me. His skin is rough and creased like an old paper bag. He barely has eyebrows and his watery eyes are surrounded by wrinkles.
I open my mouth in surprise as he pauses to stare at me. I have never seen a man so old.
"I sorry 'bout you Ma," he says. His words are mumbled and I can see that it pains him to speak.
YOU ARE READING
Mind Of A Slave
Historical Fiction"The life we're living is the easiest of the difficult." Cass Jinney Jackson is a Louisianan slave girl. She has recently moved to a plantation near the woods, but her life there is far from ordinary. Growing up as the civil war rages on, she finds...
