Robert W Stephens [Stephens - The Drayton Diaries

Copyright 2014 Robert W Stephens

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 1502893320

ISBN 13: 9781502893321

For
Felicia Dames

Contents

Chapter 1

The Slave

Journal Entry

Discovery Location: Ruins of Kings Shadow

Thomas said he found my body by the side of the river. At first he thought a bear had killed me for slash marks covered my back. Then he turned me over and saw that my throat had been slit from ear to ear. By the time of his discovery, my blood had dried and was caked to my throat and chest. There was, however, very little blood in the grass around my body, so he assumed I had been killed elsewhere, and then my body had been carried here.

Thomas brushed the long hair from my face and saw the terror that registered in my eyes during my final seconds of life. He told me he still couldnt erase the look of my eyes from his mind. He said he would wake up at night in a cold sweat, reliving that moment by the river again and again.

I knew Thomas well, and I knew he would never do anything to desecrate my body. He admitted to me, though, that he considered carrying my body into the river and weighing it down with stones. He was convinced he would be blamed for my death.

I wasnt surprised to hear he felt that way. Both Thomas and I had seen many slaves beaten to death, and the beatings had often been because of unjust accusations. Thomas knew our master would never take the word of a slave.

Sometimes a slave would try to run away, and that was always a guarantee of death. The escapees never got very far, and our master would hang them from a pole he erected outside the slave quarters. He wanted the dead bodies to be reminders of what happened to those who disobeyed his rule.

He would leave the bodies up for days. The smell would overwhelm the area, and many of us would vomit from the foul odor and sight of the decaying corpses. The vultures would soon arrive, and we would be forced to watch them pick at the dead flesh of our friends or relatives.

One day a male slave grew tired of those disgusting birds. He threw stones at the vultures to force them away. It worked for a while, but then our master was told what he had done. Soon that slave was found hanging from the pole. He wasnt killed immediately. Our master simply starved him to death. It took more days than I can remember, and the mans suffering tormented us all. Eventually the vultures he had scattered returned to feast on him.

It was their truth against ours, and our word mattered less than the rats that scampered across our bare legs and arms in the dead of the night.

I understood Thomas fear. He no doubt saw himself hanging from that pole for a crime he didnt commit. But before Thomas could do anything with my body, he heard a scream from behind him. He turned and saw one of the old women standing at the top of the hill. She dropped the wooden bucket she was carrying and ran back to the house. The bucket rolled to a stop several feet from Thomas. He said he thought about running but knew he wouldnt get very far. The men on the horses were too fast. They always caught us. There was no hope.

Thomas told me he prayed our master would believe his story about finding me there. Our master did not trust us, especially the men. Thomas said he assumed he would be joining me soon in the afterlife. He only hoped his death would be quick.

Within a few moments, the white men arrived.

Thomas was beyond terrified. He was too scared to move or speak. I felt his terror as he told me the story, and I began to feel sick to my stomach when I thought of the vultures that would eventually devour my body by the river.

Our master had sent the men and the dogs searching for me. They had been looking for three days. He was certain I had run away. He knew I was clever and was furious with the men for allowing me to get farther than anyone else had.

But I had not run away. I couldnt have.

My death was in the middle of the night. My killer grabbed the back of my hair and yanked my head back. I felt pressure against my throat, but there wasnt any pain. I felt the hot liquid roll down my neck and onto my breasts. I remember falling to the wooden floor of the cabin. Just before the darkness, I saw his face. He stood over me with the knife. I saw the bright-red drops of my blood fall off the edge of the blade.

I closed my eyes. All my senses seemed so alert in those remaining seconds of life. I could smell the sweat of my killers body. I could hear the rats walk across the floor planks in the distance. I could hear the wind rustling through the leaves of the trees. I could hear the large bird crying out. Its squawk was loud and piercing.

I opened my eyes one final time and saw the leather shoes of the man standing above me. They were worn and caked with mud. He kneeled down beside me and stared into my dying eyes. He smiled. I dont know why one human would gain such pleasure in hurting another. But I saw a sensation in his eyes that I can only describe as ecstasy.

He reached down to the wooden floor and ran his dirty fingers through my blood. He held the wet fingers in front of my face so I could see them. Then he reached over and smeared my blood across my cheek.

Theres no stopping it now. Theres only death, he said.

I closed my eyes and knew I would never open them again.

I didnt know why the man killed me. In some ways, it didnt matter. After all, I dont believe in God anymore, not after the things I have seen and heard. I dont believe people go to some glorious reward where they spend an eternity with loved ones. Theres only pain and darkness. I know that now. The dead are gone from this world, and soon our lives are forgotten. Its as if they were never there to begin with.

Thomas said our master arrived and walked down to the river, but he didnt ask Thomas anything. He simply brushed past him and knelt down beside me. He grabbed my hand, and then I woke.

The women screamed, and the men stepped back in fear. My master had brought me back from the dead. He asked me who had killed me. Before I could answer him, the man who killed me ran. The dogs quickly caught up with him. They bit at his legs, and they would have torn him to pieces if my master hadnt ordered them back. However, the terrible judgment awaiting my killer was far worse than anything the dogs could have done.

My master had him tied to the pole. It was the first time a white man had been placed there. My master then took a knife and slit the guilty ones lower stomach open. His intestines were pulled out inch by inch. My master held them up to his face.

Theres no stopping it now. Theres only death, my master said.

I dont know how he knew what my killer had told me in those final moments of my first life. I wondered if my master had been there at my death, hiding in the shadows and watching one of his slaves being butchered. Perhaps, he read my memories when he brought me back.

He never asked the man why he took my life. The man never offered an explanation or even begged for mercy. He just cried out in unbearable pain.

My master held my killers hand. I wasnt sure why he did this, but as I reflect on this moment years later, I believe he was preventing the man from dying quickly. I dont believe my master cared that I had been murdered. He was simply furious someone had dared to take something that belonged to him. The man had murdered one of my masters possessions, and that man was going to be punished dearly for it.

After several hours my master finally let the man die. He removed the rest of his intestines and fed them to the hungry dogs. My master ordered everyone away, but he didnt say anything to me when I stayed.