My yam-pickers searched desperately for a sturdy hook, but their efforts were all in vain. The kindled sphere that decorated the African skies were wounding against my entire being, yet I was certain that I was the substitute for the low African moon - a loping bottle. I gazed up at the beautiful scene I was marinated in.
Slowly, slowly, I surrendered myself to the room I would sleep in tonight...
YOU ARE READING
The Destiny of an African Girl
Historical FictionExperience the days a slave must go through during some of Africa's toughest times.
