Post by Voss on Aug 25, 2018 16:16:09 GMT -5
( This post here starts the day that Benjamen had died.)
The heat of the day was heavy on all who stood beneath the sun, those picking the pecan shell off the ground sweeping below the trees. Others would be knocking down the shucks that are ready for harvest, men walking along them with guns would watch as they toiled the day away. The pickers stayed among the trees, women would come and take the buckets or bags to the dry out area. Not far off in another section, there are rows of muscadine grape vine, women bent along the vine picking and tossing them into baskets before putting it on their head to carry to be packaged and shipped to canners. Some kept behind for canning jelly and making juice, another field was full of cowpea pickers.
And older woman along with a few children where near the yard of the plantation, they were gently digging in the dirt to pluck some large sweet potatoes from the dirt. The older woman would direct them for the harvest for tonight's dinner, she would set them out to dry while the dirt still covered them. She would teach them where they could go and where they were not wanted, and when they start bouncing with the energy she would switch them keeping them in line. She waves her hands shooing them to the rice fields and other fields to get the harvest for dinner, each child would run to where they had been taught. The men with guns would watch them move to the women who were shucking and separating food goods to be shipped. They would gather grains of rice along with fruits and cowpea's, the difficulty was often they couldn't carry the bag. Having field men having to help them bring it back to the old woman.
Often the white man would follow them to make sure they were not causing any trouble for the front house. The old woman would then leave the kids to help with the harvest or shucking, she would head inside having the kitchen girls assist her with preparing for that evening's dinner. Which most of the food took most of the day to cook, so the whole house was filled with sweet and savory smells. A servant would move from the kitchen with a tall iced sweet tea, the glass sweating with a small lemon topped the side and a small straw with thick ice chunks floating through the whole drink. The sandwich having sliced meats dressed in lettuce with thick slices of tomato and a good spread of ground mustard. She carried all this on a tray to Mason's office gently setting the tray down. She would gently rap her knuckles against his door a few times, she would hear a male voice through the thick oak doors called for her to come in.
Gently opening the door before sweeping up the tray bring his food in, she would notice he was deep in thought ignoring her. She would set the tray on a side desk, she would stir the tea gently with the long spoon before setting it down. Turning she would grab a long napkin gently tucking into his suit while he ignored her, she would then start to clear things she knew he wasn't using at the moment. Her hands were quick to place the plate and a coaster on his desk for his tea, she would pick up anything that might have been left behind by him. A few dishes taking them with her and the tray, he would only look up when she started to retreat with a smile to her. She would bend in a kind of curtsy slowly shutting the door and leaving. Taking his glasses off he would rub his face gently, the stress of his ledgers and be working around the people he had here basically against their will.
He would lean back in his seat taking a deep breath before sitting forward taking the sandwich as he would eat looking over the massive paperwork he had, he documented most everything he had money running through. Even the little payment he had for the local police to look the other way, though for some it was easy with the racism that ran deep through the state. Most knew if you even went near the cherry grove and your skin color was remotely even a suntan, you never returned. At least locally it was given a wide birth, he had acquired many workhorses he was having to tab that was new. This is what was having a little stressor on him, he had told the girls to open all the windows in his office that morning to keep the air flowing that was nice breeze outside.
The wind just this moment he finished his sandwich felt dense. He pulled the napkin from himself wiping his hands looking around, it felt like something had gone through him and as soon as it had come it was gone. His breath was deep with a hint of panic as he runs his hand along his chest, he for the moment though he perhaps was having a heart attack. That was something that would ruin him, he could not be weak near his slaves. He knew if they could rise above him that they would take advantage of it. He would drink the tea deeply before he would rise from the desk leaving everything behind as he went outside. He thought perhaps the sun would help straighten him out. Moving outside he would leave the napkin on a side table in the hall before walking out the front door.
He licked his lips wetting them before stepping down the front porch, he looked around as if hearing something his men whispering to each other wondering what he was doing. He would notice them watching him before he would wave his arm at them.
" Get your asses back to work!"
He shouted at them before they would spread out leaving him to his trance-like walk, he moved along his large yard as if looking for something. He would take out a handkerchief slowly wiping his face, his eyes couldn't focus, as he went to his knees, the grass staining his suit pants. A swarm of voices swimming in his head sounding like a droning hive. Closing his eyes as the sun beat down on his face, the humming noise drowning out the surrounding sound. Then a voice that broke through at a bare whisper and only growing louder by the minute.
"The glimmer of the soul is power."
He could not understand the sound of this voice, the sound of the behaving words filtered out of his mind until it was silent except for the one voice. The sentence repeating until he felt someone touch his shoulder his eyes would shoot open looking up at Wes the strong bull of a man. The large man would draw his hand away from him with concern and fear in his eyes, Mason would slowly stand up wiping his face off. Mason stared at Wes for the longest of moments, he moved towards him looking him over.
" Boy why you bothering me for?"
The large man would hunch up his shoulders a little as if trying to make himself smaller then the shorter man. He would point to the sky showing that it was growing dark out, Mason realized that he had been on his front lawn most of the day on his knees. This had his anger boiling down to nothing. He would pat Wes's shoulder before nodding, he would walk with the big man towards the large mansion like house.
" Alright Wes head on home, ok?"
The large man would nod and head off towards the slave row past the work hand house, he would keep looking back watching Mason head into the house. Mason stepped up the porch the women watching him head into the house for the dining hall, some of his men sitting at the large table dressed in a Sunday best. He would move to the head of the table sitting down, his eyes seemed as if they were off into another space and time. The men would look at each other as if wondering if they should say anything. Masons eyes would go into focus as he glared at them.
" Well? Bring in the food dammit!"
The women would shuffle into the room laying out the food for them and dishing out their meal, one of the men would start talking about the day filling Mason in on what happened out in the field. It seemed as if Mason wasn't listening as the man jabbered on, the sound of the voice speaking in his head singsonging the sentence over and over. It was like a flame licking at the back of his skull, the voice sounded like it was changing constantly going from sing-song to strong deep voice. He would snap back to reality after a moment the men giving an odd look he would look down at the food before him, he would start to dig into it like he was starving. All looking at him like they couldn't understand why he was acting strange, he would point to one of them.
" You had no issue with the field hands?"
The man would shake his head they seemed to figure he was listening with how they changed their demeanor. They would dig into the meal with the same vigor that Mason was showing, he seemed to be starving as he shoveled the sweet potatoes into his mouth. They were smothered in butter with a hint of cinnamon and honey, he moved to the rice porage mixture along with the cowpeas as a side dish with veggies. He ate like a wolf did sloshing through meat, he would push the plate aside looking like he could take a nap. The men did the same after they had finished, they would wait for him to light his pipe before they would light up their bingie sucking on the sweet tobacco they grew here. A vanilla mixed smell hit the room as they relaxed along with Mason, who seemed to be lucid at the moment.
It wasn't long before all had gone over the days' expenses and gains, it was long after they had left the girls were cleaning up and putting food into Tupperware to bring to the slave house for the men. Mason believed that if you fed a workhorse or bull good enough that he would do as you asked without trouble, and the pony girls would visit the work bulls helping them relax at the end of the day. If the day went well this would continue, but if even one work bull or horse mess up everyone suffered. Meant gruel and no ponygirls for over two weeks, which had the older ones handling their own punishment to the young ones pulling problems that all so counted for those marked a slave but not the same slave skin color.
The oldest workhorse or bull would treat them worse because it was the easiest way to gain some pleasure from their predicament seeing them as the boss man. There were three men of pale skin among them and currently they were living as the rest did, today was a good day no one got whipped or clubbed. The men that worked the field gathered together eating the house leftovers with vigor, the whole house was chatting away playing dominos talking about the day. The women weaving baskets or patching clothing talking about cooking recipes for food, the children horse playing just outside the house chasing fireflies.
He stood up in his room watching the longhouse in the distance lit up bright, he knew in an hour or so they would shut out the lights and go to sleep. The words floating in his head had him slipping into his bed sweating, though his body was chilled he wondered if he was coming down with something. He never remembered getting sick as a kid, he thought that was impossible with what he was. He felt as if laying in bed was different, a pull of some sort had him feeling as if he needed to go outside again. He forced himself to lay still in bed closing his eyes.
The heat of the day was heavy on all who stood beneath the sun, those picking the pecan shell off the ground sweeping below the trees. Others would be knocking down the shucks that are ready for harvest, men walking along them with guns would watch as they toiled the day away. The pickers stayed among the trees, women would come and take the buckets or bags to the dry out area. Not far off in another section, there are rows of muscadine grape vine, women bent along the vine picking and tossing them into baskets before putting it on their head to carry to be packaged and shipped to canners. Some kept behind for canning jelly and making juice, another field was full of cowpea pickers.
And older woman along with a few children where near the yard of the plantation, they were gently digging in the dirt to pluck some large sweet potatoes from the dirt. The older woman would direct them for the harvest for tonight's dinner, she would set them out to dry while the dirt still covered them. She would teach them where they could go and where they were not wanted, and when they start bouncing with the energy she would switch them keeping them in line. She waves her hands shooing them to the rice fields and other fields to get the harvest for dinner, each child would run to where they had been taught. The men with guns would watch them move to the women who were shucking and separating food goods to be shipped. They would gather grains of rice along with fruits and cowpea's, the difficulty was often they couldn't carry the bag. Having field men having to help them bring it back to the old woman.
Often the white man would follow them to make sure they were not causing any trouble for the front house. The old woman would then leave the kids to help with the harvest or shucking, she would head inside having the kitchen girls assist her with preparing for that evening's dinner. Which most of the food took most of the day to cook, so the whole house was filled with sweet and savory smells. A servant would move from the kitchen with a tall iced sweet tea, the glass sweating with a small lemon topped the side and a small straw with thick ice chunks floating through the whole drink. The sandwich having sliced meats dressed in lettuce with thick slices of tomato and a good spread of ground mustard. She carried all this on a tray to Mason's office gently setting the tray down. She would gently rap her knuckles against his door a few times, she would hear a male voice through the thick oak doors called for her to come in.
Gently opening the door before sweeping up the tray bring his food in, she would notice he was deep in thought ignoring her. She would set the tray on a side desk, she would stir the tea gently with the long spoon before setting it down. Turning she would grab a long napkin gently tucking into his suit while he ignored her, she would then start to clear things she knew he wasn't using at the moment. Her hands were quick to place the plate and a coaster on his desk for his tea, she would pick up anything that might have been left behind by him. A few dishes taking them with her and the tray, he would only look up when she started to retreat with a smile to her. She would bend in a kind of curtsy slowly shutting the door and leaving. Taking his glasses off he would rub his face gently, the stress of his ledgers and be working around the people he had here basically against their will.
He would lean back in his seat taking a deep breath before sitting forward taking the sandwich as he would eat looking over the massive paperwork he had, he documented most everything he had money running through. Even the little payment he had for the local police to look the other way, though for some it was easy with the racism that ran deep through the state. Most knew if you even went near the cherry grove and your skin color was remotely even a suntan, you never returned. At least locally it was given a wide birth, he had acquired many workhorses he was having to tab that was new. This is what was having a little stressor on him, he had told the girls to open all the windows in his office that morning to keep the air flowing that was nice breeze outside.
The wind just this moment he finished his sandwich felt dense. He pulled the napkin from himself wiping his hands looking around, it felt like something had gone through him and as soon as it had come it was gone. His breath was deep with a hint of panic as he runs his hand along his chest, he for the moment though he perhaps was having a heart attack. That was something that would ruin him, he could not be weak near his slaves. He knew if they could rise above him that they would take advantage of it. He would drink the tea deeply before he would rise from the desk leaving everything behind as he went outside. He thought perhaps the sun would help straighten him out. Moving outside he would leave the napkin on a side table in the hall before walking out the front door.
He licked his lips wetting them before stepping down the front porch, he looked around as if hearing something his men whispering to each other wondering what he was doing. He would notice them watching him before he would wave his arm at them.
" Get your asses back to work!"
He shouted at them before they would spread out leaving him to his trance-like walk, he moved along his large yard as if looking for something. He would take out a handkerchief slowly wiping his face, his eyes couldn't focus, as he went to his knees, the grass staining his suit pants. A swarm of voices swimming in his head sounding like a droning hive. Closing his eyes as the sun beat down on his face, the humming noise drowning out the surrounding sound. Then a voice that broke through at a bare whisper and only growing louder by the minute.
"The glimmer of the soul is power."
He could not understand the sound of this voice, the sound of the behaving words filtered out of his mind until it was silent except for the one voice. The sentence repeating until he felt someone touch his shoulder his eyes would shoot open looking up at Wes the strong bull of a man. The large man would draw his hand away from him with concern and fear in his eyes, Mason would slowly stand up wiping his face off. Mason stared at Wes for the longest of moments, he moved towards him looking him over.
" Boy why you bothering me for?"
The large man would hunch up his shoulders a little as if trying to make himself smaller then the shorter man. He would point to the sky showing that it was growing dark out, Mason realized that he had been on his front lawn most of the day on his knees. This had his anger boiling down to nothing. He would pat Wes's shoulder before nodding, he would walk with the big man towards the large mansion like house.
" Alright Wes head on home, ok?"
The large man would nod and head off towards the slave row past the work hand house, he would keep looking back watching Mason head into the house. Mason stepped up the porch the women watching him head into the house for the dining hall, some of his men sitting at the large table dressed in a Sunday best. He would move to the head of the table sitting down, his eyes seemed as if they were off into another space and time. The men would look at each other as if wondering if they should say anything. Masons eyes would go into focus as he glared at them.
" Well? Bring in the food dammit!"
The women would shuffle into the room laying out the food for them and dishing out their meal, one of the men would start talking about the day filling Mason in on what happened out in the field. It seemed as if Mason wasn't listening as the man jabbered on, the sound of the voice speaking in his head singsonging the sentence over and over. It was like a flame licking at the back of his skull, the voice sounded like it was changing constantly going from sing-song to strong deep voice. He would snap back to reality after a moment the men giving an odd look he would look down at the food before him, he would start to dig into it like he was starving. All looking at him like they couldn't understand why he was acting strange, he would point to one of them.
" You had no issue with the field hands?"
The man would shake his head they seemed to figure he was listening with how they changed their demeanor. They would dig into the meal with the same vigor that Mason was showing, he seemed to be starving as he shoveled the sweet potatoes into his mouth. They were smothered in butter with a hint of cinnamon and honey, he moved to the rice porage mixture along with the cowpeas as a side dish with veggies. He ate like a wolf did sloshing through meat, he would push the plate aside looking like he could take a nap. The men did the same after they had finished, they would wait for him to light his pipe before they would light up their bingie sucking on the sweet tobacco they grew here. A vanilla mixed smell hit the room as they relaxed along with Mason, who seemed to be lucid at the moment.
It wasn't long before all had gone over the days' expenses and gains, it was long after they had left the girls were cleaning up and putting food into Tupperware to bring to the slave house for the men. Mason believed that if you fed a workhorse or bull good enough that he would do as you asked without trouble, and the pony girls would visit the work bulls helping them relax at the end of the day. If the day went well this would continue, but if even one work bull or horse mess up everyone suffered. Meant gruel and no ponygirls for over two weeks, which had the older ones handling their own punishment to the young ones pulling problems that all so counted for those marked a slave but not the same slave skin color.
The oldest workhorse or bull would treat them worse because it was the easiest way to gain some pleasure from their predicament seeing them as the boss man. There were three men of pale skin among them and currently they were living as the rest did, today was a good day no one got whipped or clubbed. The men that worked the field gathered together eating the house leftovers with vigor, the whole house was chatting away playing dominos talking about the day. The women weaving baskets or patching clothing talking about cooking recipes for food, the children horse playing just outside the house chasing fireflies.
He stood up in his room watching the longhouse in the distance lit up bright, he knew in an hour or so they would shut out the lights and go to sleep. The words floating in his head had him slipping into his bed sweating, though his body was chilled he wondered if he was coming down with something. He never remembered getting sick as a kid, he thought that was impossible with what he was. He felt as if laying in bed was different, a pull of some sort had him feeling as if he needed to go outside again. He forced himself to lay still in bed closing his eyes.