As I walk down the stairs, answerin' Miss. Lizabeth's call, I can't help but thinkin' of Samuel. He had moved four times in his life, livin' in four different shacks, workin' under four different masters. And he was educated in one, showin' that not every white man is like daddy. Some are nice. And some, are probably meaner.
I look 'round at the white walls, and big round stairs. They in a circle and marble, like half the things 'round this house. I can't even picture not livin' here, 'cept in my fantasy of movin' up to Hill Country. But even then I can't see what my house looks like, I've never known nothin' different.
I used to like this house, the way it looked. It had been warm, with colors that were like the trunks of trees, and the sun when it set. But then the Mistress came alon' and now I live in a world of white, with statues of dead men carved in marble sittin' in random places 'round the house.
It freak me out, for some of 'em don't have no arms. She decided that the walls would go bare, and that in the dinin' area we'd have a nice big, wood table with three candles on top. They always lit and everythin'. And in the foyer she put down a red carpet, that traveles to the kitchen. It real thin, not even the width of the hall, and real pointless.
I liked the house before, and really that's how I imagine my house in the Hill Country. All warm and welcomin', though I don't plan on havin' anyone over. Cept maybe Cecile, cause she always been good to me and for some reason I've started likin' slaves now. My whole head is backward.
"Corinne, you gonna miss the service, you get down here now," Miss. Lizabeth shouts, though her heart ain't in it.
No doubt it was the Mistress who told 'er to say it. I can see her now, with her wide eyes and pink lips in a scowl. The sad thing- she even prettier even when moody.
"Comin' Miss. Lizabeth," I say back, tryin' not to raise my voice too much, cause daddy think it un lady like.
I hurry down the rest of the marble stairs, and have to carry the trim of my dress in my hand to do so. If only the Mistresses taste wasn't so much like her personality.
When I finally reach the foyer, covered in that pointless red carpet, the Mistress is gorgeous. She peeved, though her voice is still nice when she greets me. Daddy don't like her bein' rude to his favorite girl.
I see Cecile in the kitchen, after the others are out the door, and I give her my best smile and wave. She, surprised, does the same.
I look 'round at the white walls, and big round stairs. They in a circle and marble, like half the things 'round this house. I can't even picture not livin' here, 'cept in my fantasy of movin' up to Hill Country. But even then I can't see what my house looks like, I've never known nothin' different.
I used to like this house, the way it looked. It had been warm, with colors that were like the trunks of trees, and the sun when it set. But then the Mistress came alon' and now I live in a world of white, with statues of dead men carved in marble sittin' in random places 'round the house.
It freak me out, for some of 'em don't have no arms. She decided that the walls would go bare, and that in the dinin' area we'd have a nice big, wood table with three candles on top. They always lit and everythin'. And in the foyer she put down a red carpet, that traveles to the kitchen. It real thin, not even the width of the hall, and real pointless.
I liked the house before, and really that's how I imagine my house in the Hill Country. All warm and welcomin', though I don't plan on havin' anyone over. Cept maybe Cecile, cause she always been good to me and for some reason I've started likin' slaves now. My whole head is backward.
"Corinne, you gonna miss the service, you get down here now," Miss. Lizabeth shouts, though her heart ain't in it.
No doubt it was the Mistress who told 'er to say it. I can see her now, with her wide eyes and pink lips in a scowl. The sad thing- she even prettier even when moody.
"Comin' Miss. Lizabeth," I say back, tryin' not to raise my voice too much, cause daddy think it un lady like.
I hurry down the rest of the marble stairs, and have to carry the trim of my dress in my hand to do so. If only the Mistresses taste wasn't so much like her personality.
When I finally reach the foyer, covered in that pointless red carpet, the Mistress is gorgeous. She peeved, though her voice is still nice when she greets me. Daddy don't like her bein' rude to his favorite girl.
I see Cecile in the kitchen, after the others are out the door, and I give her my best smile and wave. She, surprised, does the same.
