Lately the air smelt sickly sweet, a nauseating scent she had come to bear these past few months. The earth smooth beneath her feet covered the hem of her skirt, moving into the field she breathed heavily. Long days, short nights and the lash of a whip were all she could see between the blades of cane.

Beneath the boiling sun sweat dripped from her brow and pooled beneth her armpits as she steadied her cutlass once more. They had counted heads and divided families the seven nights before, sullen faces and screams of fear tearing through the night as they were carried away. Their screams still rang between her lobes as if she bore their pain.

She had a secret as precious as the sun.

Just like the moon, her body was changing but she didn’t tell a soul. The third moon had appeared the night before, gliding into her window frame like an old friend. No longer a slither or cresent, she shine broad and bright. Sleep had called her attention just before the morning sun had appeared to soon.

Almost six foot tall and the colour of sand she stood out in the river of green. Some had spoken of her beauty as a curse and her tongue as a disaster but she had learned quickly. Sold into the Smith estate she clung to memories of her mother as she grew past the smallest tree. Ripping through the cane piece like a man stalks fell at her feet easily. A clearing appeared between the cane and for a moment she was lost in a memory.

He chin above her head, his hand upon her bosom, it felt so real. His fingertips tearing at her flesh, while the blades of bitter grass took residence between her lips. Cold grass and warm hands upon her flesh as she lavished beneath his manhood. There she had found many things she would like to undiscover but the seed had prepetated her womb and life was blossoming inside. There had been many stories of love in the feild, but she had never felt the love they spoke of until now.

Slicing through the air as swiftly as her cutlass the whip tore through her dress before she could think. Squealing as a pain she had come to reconigse tore through her body. Breathing deeply she let the cutlass fall, silence filled her ears as she clutched her stomach. The whip slice through the air faster than her cutlass stripping a

If there had been a God they spoken of she would call for him, but she could only think of the baby pushing his way into the world.

There was no recollection of returning home or the birth of her son as she faded in and out of consciousness. Trying to clear the fog in her head she lah shivering as her body heat rose and fell. Days beyond his birth she rose into the heat and the sickly sweet smell was no longer sickly. The famaliar scent of cane was comforting before she remembered his name, his face and his scent. Her stomach tightened in memory of him.Clinging to him with every inch of her core she couldnt save him from his fate. Perfect in everyway he came silently. As he lay still and lifeless she held back the burning tears and smiled.

In death he was free……



Please do not be offended by this post! As a mother who has buried children I am sensitive to the fact that some my find this post offensive. However, it is not my intention to offend!

Creativity is an art! Sometimes it is magical other times it is horrific..


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They tried to kill my vibe; I died, but I survived....

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