-Ajax-

Wails split the air; my friend was getting whipped again. Not one soul moved, we knew, we all knew, that to move was to sentence yourself to the same fate. The cracks of the whip split the air accompanied by the screams and sobs.

“Coward,” I thought to myself,” help him,” I wanted to move I really did, but as all slaves know to move or to interfere was to sentence yourself to the same fate.

“He’s your friend,” We all knew that slaves have no friends, all that friends would bring you would be punishment and pain. As young as I was I knew the truth to those words.

I rolled over and went back to sleep.

...

Dong

Dong

Dong

The wake-up bell sounded throughout the plantation, reverberating through my head.

“UP! You gits! I said to GET UP!” The overseers were up and kicking moving through the lines of sleeping slaves and kicking those that were too slow to get up.

“Move, I said MOVE!”

I got up silently hoping that the slave masters wouldn’t notice me, then shuffled head down with the rest of the slaves.

It was leaf-picking day today.

The worst day. The leaves had razor sharp edges and if you weren't careful could easily take off a finger. The real name of the leaves? I had no idea. What I did no know is that all they brought was the whip. Everyone knew you couln't gather more than eighty unless you wanted to risk a finger.

A finger or the whip.

It was leaf-picking day today.

The worst day.

We walked through the plantation out past the master’s estate and meandered through the winding dirt roads that lead to the cotton fields, the sun only just starting to rise.

“Alright! I want at least one hundred leaves out of each of you today! Any less and you get to taste my whip!” The master's voice echoed across the fields.

And so we started to gather. All I could think was how much I wanted to leave. To escape and leave this all behind.

We gathered as the sun rose to its zenith, and gathered as it began to set.

“That's enough! It’s counting time!”

...

“Boy, HOW USELESS CAN YOU BE!” The Master was shouting at me, spittle flying from his mouth.

“I PUT YOU ON HORSE DUTY AND THE HORSE FALLS SICK!” His fist came flying towards me smacking into my face with a dull thump.

“I PUT YOU IN THE WEEDING GANG AND THE WEEDS CONTINUE TO GROW!” His fist came flying back sending me to ground.

He came in close speaking in a whisper, “That’s three chances and you all know the rule, right? three chances and then….”

He reached down for his whip slowly taking and unfurling it.

“On your knees boy.” A grin started to split his face.

On my knees I went, slowly getting into position for the whipping that was about to come. I just hoped that it wouldn’t last too long. The whip came up and down cracking across my back, I let out a cry of pain, then again, and again. Just as the whip was about to come down for the fourth time I heard a voice.

“Please good sir, please, have mercy! He is my son!” It was my mother, I don’t know why she was helping me, after all as a slave she wasn’t allowed to raise me, maybe seeing me whipped triggered her maternal instinct.

The master responded quickly and with violence, the whip came up and down across my mother’s face, “I don’t care one-bit slave, he is my property and I’ll do as I please without an upstart telling me what to do!” His whip cracked across my back once more and my cries rose into the air.

“Please! Please!” my mother was at his feet this time, begging him. Once again the whip came down and cracked across my mother’s face. She continued to speak “Please! Please! Have mercy, Master!” Again the whipped cracked and my mother went sprawling. He turned back to me, lashing me again, and again, and again, ripping off my skin and shredding the flesh beneath. He was going in for another when my mother punched him.

Punched him.

Not a hard blow but a blow all the same. The master just stood still in shock for a moment not believing that a slave would ever hit him.

“That’s your three chances,” the master snarled.

...

My mother was getting whipped, the master’s face locked in a horrible snarl while the whip came down over and over and over again. My grandma, the person who takes care of me stood by my side.

“Remember this Ajax, remember this, never forget, that is what happens to the likes of us.”

Her face was sorrowful as she watched my mother being whipped, something that she had seen happen so many times before to her and to others, too many times before, her face eventually settled into a neutral expression and her eyes seemed to turn to stone. So I watched, watched as my master whipped my mother over and over again, watched as tears streamed down her face, watched as her cries filled the air and blood splattered on my face. Then watched as her body buckled and fell to the ground, yet the master did not stop, oh, no, he kept on going and going until her back lay in tatters and only flesh could be seen. It was then that master stopped, only when no skin could be seen on her back and when she was lying broken, and limp, on the ground in a pool of her own blood.

All I could think was that it should’ve been me.

Master turned to me next, his face red and sweat beading at his temples. “Come, boy, come here.” He beckoned me over to him, and so I came, stepping over streams of blood and patches of blood-stained grass.

“You see here boy?” He gestured at my mother's body, belly down and limp blood coming off of her in streams. “This is what happens when you disobey.”