(a/n. I completely forgot to check the glimpse box yesterday, so sorry everyone!)
I tie my dressin' robe 'round my body, and without no more thoughts, I leave my room. I'm outside in a matter of seconds, lovin' the night air on my face as I run to my favorite spot beneath the tree.
He don't take long to show. He sits by my side, hands crossed on his chest, legs stretched out long in front of 'em. They tall, his feet stickin' at least a foot past mine. I wasn't sure if he'd come, in truth I didn't think he would. I wasn't sure if he'd gotten my message, cause of Cecile, I hadn't been real clear.
We don't talk, not even lookin' at each other neither. I stare up at the moon, now a sliver, and picture me runnin' with him. It ain't gonna happen, but I see that cottage up in hill country anyways. I ain't gotta live rich no more, jus' a fire and some food. I ain't gotta have slaves.
Finally, I break the silence, sick of waitin', "You want me to help you or what?"
It takes him a minute to respond, and while he thinks I suddenly picture James. It's like he's sittin' in front me, his eyes all dark like his hair. He could come live with me, he can tell me stories of mother, read me books, and tend the fire, and build our house. When he gets outta that school, he could tell daddy he's leavin' and takin' me with 'em. I make myself a promise to write him as soon as I can, suggestion' the idea. The whole thing makes my mood 100 times better.
"I ain't gonna runaway tonight, I gotta protect Cecile," he finally says, fallin' all the way back, so his head is restin' on the grass, "When she can come with me, I'll go."
I think it noble of 'em, like he actin' white, but I don't say such a thin'. Slaves don't like bein' compared to a white man.
"You ain't gotta do that," I say, though I know it moot, "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to Cecile."
"Anythin'," he responds as fast as lightnin'.
It don't make real sense, so puzzled I finally give in and ask, "Why you say anythin'?"
He sighs, and I glance over at him. He rests his lousy hand atop his real one, his eyes closed real tight like he sleepin'. He don't look scary like that, I suppose no one does.
"You said nothin', I think you meant anythin'. You won't let anythin' happen to Cecile."
I tie my dressin' robe 'round my body, and without no more thoughts, I leave my room. I'm outside in a matter of seconds, lovin' the night air on my face as I run to my favorite spot beneath the tree.
He don't take long to show. He sits by my side, hands crossed on his chest, legs stretched out long in front of 'em. They tall, his feet stickin' at least a foot past mine. I wasn't sure if he'd come, in truth I didn't think he would. I wasn't sure if he'd gotten my message, cause of Cecile, I hadn't been real clear.
We don't talk, not even lookin' at each other neither. I stare up at the moon, now a sliver, and picture me runnin' with him. It ain't gonna happen, but I see that cottage up in hill country anyways. I ain't gotta live rich no more, jus' a fire and some food. I ain't gotta have slaves.
Finally, I break the silence, sick of waitin', "You want me to help you or what?"
It takes him a minute to respond, and while he thinks I suddenly picture James. It's like he's sittin' in front me, his eyes all dark like his hair. He could come live with me, he can tell me stories of mother, read me books, and tend the fire, and build our house. When he gets outta that school, he could tell daddy he's leavin' and takin' me with 'em. I make myself a promise to write him as soon as I can, suggestion' the idea. The whole thing makes my mood 100 times better.
"I ain't gonna runaway tonight, I gotta protect Cecile," he finally says, fallin' all the way back, so his head is restin' on the grass, "When she can come with me, I'll go."
I think it noble of 'em, like he actin' white, but I don't say such a thin'. Slaves don't like bein' compared to a white man.
"You ain't gotta do that," I say, though I know it moot, "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to Cecile."
"Anythin'," he responds as fast as lightnin'.
It don't make real sense, so puzzled I finally give in and ask, "Why you say anythin'?"
He sighs, and I glance over at him. He rests his lousy hand atop his real one, his eyes closed real tight like he sleepin'. He don't look scary like that, I suppose no one does.
"You said nothin', I think you meant anythin'. You won't let anythin' happen to Cecile."
