One-Shots I'll Write As a Cure For Boredom.

They'll be Hunger Games, Harry Potter, Starkid, Avatar: The Last Airbender, etc. I'm super bored, so yeah. :)

Chapter 3

A Day in the Life of Naomi (My History Assignment :D)

I miss Olivia.
​I miss when our work was done and we’d sing and dance together. I miss her fierce determination and how she never gave up. I miss our fruitless dreams of the North and freedom. But most of all, I miss her impression of Master Benjamin Burns.
​“If you don’t git ter work, I’ll skin ya!” she would say, comically waving her fists and furrowing her eyebrows.
​I would laugh, and say, “Best be careful, Olivia. Don’t want tha man t’come and getcha.” And she would roll her eyes and continue working.
​I miss Ma, too. She always knew what to say. Of course, they’re both long gone by now, far off. Maybe in Georgia, or Virginia, perhaps.
​Now it’s just me, Pa, and Eli. And Eli’s only twelve. He helps me in the fields, where I pick cotton all day long. A loud voice snaps me back to the cruel, harsh reality.
​“Naomi! You git to workin’ now!” Master Benjamin called, noticing my suddenly lax pace in the field. Here I stand all day, practically ripping my skin off trying to pick this cotton.
​As I work, I dream. The North has to be some sort of safe haven, in my mind. When Joseph escaped with Orpah, he swore he’d find some way to tell us how it was. I like to think they made it up there alright.
​I bend over once more in the hot sun, sweat pouring down my back. I pick up an innocent-looking cloud of cotton, wincing and retracting my finger when the sharp burr punctures my skin.
​I watch as a dark red drop of blood slowly oozes out and runs down my finger. I stick my finger in my mouth to clean it before resuming my cotton-picking.
“Wait! Wait! Mas’er Benjamin! Mas’er Benjamin!” I see Moses being led out by the collar by Master Benjamin, and back behind what we call “The Whipping House.”
“What he do?” I ask Martha, who was next to me.
“I ain’t real sure. I think he mighta done dropped his cotton basket in a mud puddle. His cotton was mighty dirty.”
“Poor feller. Moses ain’t never done nothing real wrong. It was an honest mistake.”
We are forced to listen to the cries of pain from Moses as Master Benjamin beats him. I never really enjoy it. But I’ve never been whipped. The most that’s happened to me is a severe warning.
I hear a bell signaling our short lunch break, and I find Pa and Eli, heading to our small shack. We scrounge together food and eat in silence, too exhausted to speak too much.
Pa and Eli go on ahead of me, but I stay behind to quickly sweep. I go as fast as I can, but when I get to the fields, Master Benjamin notices.
“Come here, girl,” he said, motioning over to him. A feeling of dread rises in my stomach. I know what’s coming. I suppose my perfect no-whipping record has just been shattered.
He grabs me, and takes me behind The Whipping House. I don’t even bother looking at what he’s using. I guess at some point or another, it’s just a part of being a slave. It’s just a day in the life of Naomi Richardson.

Well, thanks for reading this random slavery story. It's mah History assignment. And, since South Carolina is apparently chock full of racist jerks (not really) we had to write this.
-GraceAnne/Emu/Foxface :D

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