When I dream, it's a muddle of images that don't make no real sense. I see the new slave, with his muscular arms wrappin''round my neck, chokin' me 'till death. I see his crazy eyes just starin', and I see his hand caught beneath a rock as he struggles to break free.
But he ain't the only one that curse my dreams, Cecile sits with a bloody body, her husband I suppose, cryin' those awful tears. She yells at me fo' killin' him, spittin' at my feet. She don't want to see me no more, cause I'm like the devil. Tears run down my own cheeks, and when I wake, I realize those weren't part of no dream.
I stay awake fo' hours after that, afraid of closin' my eyes. I don't want to see no more, I don't want these slaves to give me fear. My body is shakin' when I hear my daddy walk past my door, but he don't stop in. No reward for tonight. When I finally fall asleep, I don't dream.
I don't want to wake when Miss.Lizabeth calls for me, but I remember my promise to God, so I rise as always. I dress in my Sunday's best, tryin' to hide the yawns that keep attackin' my face. I figure I slept almost none last night, leavin' me to struggle to stay alert in Church. I try to sing extra loud too, but I only murmur the hymns.
I don't think no one notices, 'cept maybe Mary, but she don't really matter. She's in a sulky mood, 'cause daddy didn't suddenly love her after yesterday. She don't get that he won't 'till she leaves. I give her a pointed look, and she turns away. I win another victory.
My eyes flutter closed toward the end of the service, another yawn on my mouth. I don't open them 'till the slaves enter, for a required sermon of their own. I find the new slave first thing, and he makes the nightmares of last night come back to life. His arms find my neck, takin' my life for his own. I jump my eyes away from him, hopin' he won't work near me no more.
It's past noon when Church ends, leavin' me in the mercy of Miss. Lizabeth and my sister. They each discuss what a lovely sermon it was, and how they hope it can bestow the same knowledge amongst the slaves. Mary says somethin' 'bout how they're lucky they don't have to work today. I don't understand why it's lucky, it'd be cruel to make them to somethin' on a Sunday. But I don't say nothin', Miss. Lizabeth already likes Mary better.
Sunday passes like a snail, the only thought keepin' me alive was my decidin' that I'd talk to Cecile tomorrow. I wanna know if I really killed her husband, or if my dreams were just lyin' to me.
But he ain't the only one that curse my dreams, Cecile sits with a bloody body, her husband I suppose, cryin' those awful tears. She yells at me fo' killin' him, spittin' at my feet. She don't want to see me no more, cause I'm like the devil. Tears run down my own cheeks, and when I wake, I realize those weren't part of no dream.
I stay awake fo' hours after that, afraid of closin' my eyes. I don't want to see no more, I don't want these slaves to give me fear. My body is shakin' when I hear my daddy walk past my door, but he don't stop in. No reward for tonight. When I finally fall asleep, I don't dream.
I don't want to wake when Miss.Lizabeth calls for me, but I remember my promise to God, so I rise as always. I dress in my Sunday's best, tryin' to hide the yawns that keep attackin' my face. I figure I slept almost none last night, leavin' me to struggle to stay alert in Church. I try to sing extra loud too, but I only murmur the hymns.
I don't think no one notices, 'cept maybe Mary, but she don't really matter. She's in a sulky mood, 'cause daddy didn't suddenly love her after yesterday. She don't get that he won't 'till she leaves. I give her a pointed look, and she turns away. I win another victory.
My eyes flutter closed toward the end of the service, another yawn on my mouth. I don't open them 'till the slaves enter, for a required sermon of their own. I find the new slave first thing, and he makes the nightmares of last night come back to life. His arms find my neck, takin' my life for his own. I jump my eyes away from him, hopin' he won't work near me no more.
It's past noon when Church ends, leavin' me in the mercy of Miss. Lizabeth and my sister. They each discuss what a lovely sermon it was, and how they hope it can bestow the same knowledge amongst the slaves. Mary says somethin' 'bout how they're lucky they don't have to work today. I don't understand why it's lucky, it'd be cruel to make them to somethin' on a Sunday. But I don't say nothin', Miss. Lizabeth already likes Mary better.
Sunday passes like a snail, the only thought keepin' me alive was my decidin' that I'd talk to Cecile tomorrow. I wanna know if I really killed her husband, or if my dreams were just lyin' to me.
