It rainin' today. It don't do that much- not here where the sun is always hot and shinin' and clouds don't pass real often. But today, it different. The sun is hidin' her face from the world, not even visiable from behind a paticulary rough lookin' cloud. It dark, real scary lookin' as Heaven cries, lightin' strikin' real tough too.
Mary ain't too fond of thunder storms, she scared of the thunder that almos' shakes the whole house. And when the sky lights up in yellow, she jumps right outta her skin. The Mistress and Miss. Lizabeth feel the same, but I don't mind really. It kinda peaceful if ya really listen, and with nothin' else to do, listen' is my only option.
"We should really get ta work on our lessons," Miss. Lizabeth says, all shaky. She don't sound real authoritative when she scared. It amusin'.
"I dunno if I can concentrate in this." Mary sounds even more frightened than our tutor, her voice not darin' to rise above a low whisper. I laugh to myself, momentarily forgettin' my promise to be nice to Mary.
"Me neither," I lie, gettin' up from my chair, "I think I'll jus' go rest fo' awhile."
Lies come naturally ta me now. I ain't sure if that a good thin' or not. Miss. Lizabeth and Mary don't bother given' no reply, the strike of thunder, their answer. Cecile is still in the kitchen, clutchin' a dish rag like it her life. I come to the table and we watch each other, sayin' nothin'. It kinda nice bein' a place where there ain't constant talkin'. It'd be better, though, if she wasn't scared like my sister. It'd be better if she were smarter than that.
"It a real bad storm," I comment, watchin' through the window at the swirlin' rain and dirt in the air.
"You think there'll be wind?"
I shrug, sometime here our winds are real strong and we get a tunnel of swirlin' winds knockin' everythin' down that gets in its way. That can actually be real scary.
The sky lights up again, an' cause the thought of that awful wind is on my mind, I actually jump. What are we gonna do? What is daddy gonna do?
"You kno', they out there."
"Who?"
But before she answers, I kno'. The slaves, Samuel. They out there and all they got is them shacks. And if that wind is actually comin'- daddy could loose a slave or two. I jus' hope it ain't Samuel. Fo' Cecile. Not me.
Mary ain't too fond of thunder storms, she scared of the thunder that almos' shakes the whole house. And when the sky lights up in yellow, she jumps right outta her skin. The Mistress and Miss. Lizabeth feel the same, but I don't mind really. It kinda peaceful if ya really listen, and with nothin' else to do, listen' is my only option.
"We should really get ta work on our lessons," Miss. Lizabeth says, all shaky. She don't sound real authoritative when she scared. It amusin'.
"I dunno if I can concentrate in this." Mary sounds even more frightened than our tutor, her voice not darin' to rise above a low whisper. I laugh to myself, momentarily forgettin' my promise to be nice to Mary.
"Me neither," I lie, gettin' up from my chair, "I think I'll jus' go rest fo' awhile."
Lies come naturally ta me now. I ain't sure if that a good thin' or not. Miss. Lizabeth and Mary don't bother given' no reply, the strike of thunder, their answer. Cecile is still in the kitchen, clutchin' a dish rag like it her life. I come to the table and we watch each other, sayin' nothin'. It kinda nice bein' a place where there ain't constant talkin'. It'd be better, though, if she wasn't scared like my sister. It'd be better if she were smarter than that.
"It a real bad storm," I comment, watchin' through the window at the swirlin' rain and dirt in the air.
"You think there'll be wind?"
I shrug, sometime here our winds are real strong and we get a tunnel of swirlin' winds knockin' everythin' down that gets in its way. That can actually be real scary.
The sky lights up again, an' cause the thought of that awful wind is on my mind, I actually jump. What are we gonna do? What is daddy gonna do?
"You kno', they out there."
"Who?"
But before she answers, I kno'. The slaves, Samuel. They out there and all they got is them shacks. And if that wind is actually comin'- daddy could loose a slave or two. I jus' hope it ain't Samuel. Fo' Cecile. Not me.
