Untamed Love

The air of the night was peaceful , yet thick with the smell of sweat, dirt and cotton. The moon was full , and the night young. With sacks of unpicked cotton lying around the already crowded cabin, Abigail had her sleepy eyes fixated on the pile of cotton which lay in front of her. She turned to look over to her sister who had her head buried in another pile of cotton fast asleep . They were both exhausted from harvesting the cotton earlier yet they had to pick the seeds out before dawn for shipment, slaves as they were they had no choice. “Martha”, Abigail’s weary voice barely rose over a whisper. Martha didn’t budge she was so far gone that yawns begun to escape her lips. With no energy left to yell Abigail left her sister to sleep. She got back to picking out the seeds, struggling to see clearly as the candle beside her began to burn out. Their father had died six years ago, his body giving in to years of heavy drinking. Four years later, their mother followed worn down by endless labor and the cruel weight of life in bondage. Born into slavery, Abigail and Martha had never known freedom; they had worked the fields for as long as they could remember. As much as Abigail longed for freedom for herself and her sister a part of her knew it’s was dream that may never come true. The willow creek field was brimming with different types of plantations. There were several plots of cotton, Rice, sugar cane, and also tobacco. It was the cotton season and both the slaves and the overseers were hustling to get the shipment ready. Nothing on the plantation was worth more than cotton, it was the lifeblood of the land. Bales of cotton left the plantation each week in this season, bound for distant mills and estates where they’d be spun into cloth for the markets. Shipments left Willow creek bound for savannah, Charleston, New Orleans and Natchez. Before dawn Abigail was done with her pile of cotton and was already picking out Martha’s half. Her eyes were tired, her fingers ached and so did her back. The newly lit candle stood shining brightly projecting her frail figure on the wall, humming softly to keep herself awake. She had had many dusks and dawns like this yet she could never get use to the tiredness and fatigue she had to go through. Many nights she cried, wondered and hoped for it to all end . She craved freedom, not just hers but for all the other slaves. There were a number of them, some old, some young, expecting mothers even little infants. They were all slaves to the white men. She had help loading the cargos with the sacks of cotton she had picked out from Jonah. Jonah had worked in willow creek for as long as he can remember. Brought there as a boy, he had grown up by the crack of the whip and the burn of the sun over the fields. Despite all his hardship, Jonah was gentle, As gentle as any slave could ever be. He never fought back because he knew there was no way out. Loosing both parents to the quiet cruelty of the fields , their strengths worn out and bodies finally giving in, he somehow thought that would be his end as well. “ And that’s the last one” his thick black southern accent hung subtle in the air. Abigail turned towards his direction and couldn’t help but notice his outstanding features. The glow of his sweaty brown skin under the burning sun, his eyes, like the last light of dusk, warm steady and untouched. She watched as his muscled arms lifted and dropped the sack of cotton, she thought, he was one fine black man. Though Jonah’s features were striking, Abigail’s gaze held no longing. She saw in him not a suitor but a friend, more like a brother. With a smile planted across her face, she walked over to Jonah. The wide smile on her face saying it all, she was ever so thankful for his help, out of the other slaves on the field he was the dearest to her heart. He smiled back, his smile comforting and welcoming. He’d always been so fond of Abigail, his childhood friend. He was only 8 when he arrived on the fields, Abigail was 6 then. They had literally grown up side by side, their bond deepening with every passing year. And even after 13 years their bond was still strong, he always looked out for her just as she did for him. Martha was born 5 years after Abigail was born, after both their parents passed, Abigail’s only priority was keeping Martha safe. “Why thank you Jonah”, Even though her smile said it all, she still had to thank him. Her loud voice still flared calmly in the air over all the raucous on the field. Everyone on the field were busy as it was moving day. They had to on-load the cargos with the harvests for the shipment. As soon as the cargo full of cotton took of Martha appeared, her hair all over her face. She shuffled her already dusty feet over the sandy grounds, her slippers worn out barely holding together from years of use. “Abby” She called out her sister from a distance. Upon Abby’s turning she noticed how disheveled her sister looked.She noticed how frayed and patched her dress was in too many places to count then she realized that all she wanted to do was take Martha out of this life and far far away “ What happened to your hair Martha?” Abby asked in shocked, Her sister had so big cornrows going to the back a few hours ago and now her hair lay all over her face. The smile she once had on her face disappeared as her sister slowly but steadily approached her. She didn’t want to believe that her sister had already taken out the braids she had spent hours making. “They were itchy Abby” Martha replied while pulling at an unseamed rope tugging on her dress. She pushed a few strands of hair off her face for better sight. Abigail and Martha had thick, beautiful hair they had inherited from their mother. After their mother passed, Abigail learned to braid her own hair and soon began doing Martha’s as well just as their mother did.