1800's America is structured by racism and built on slavery. With whites at the top and blacks at the bottom, the intersecting of these two groups is impractical. When it comes to love however, this structure fails to exist as a black slave woman an...
My heart sinks into my body, beating so fast and firm that I can hear each pump echo throughout my blood. Thump! Thump! Thump! I rummage through my crate, leaving my belongings in a scattered mess on the floor. I rip through my bedsheets, flip over the dusty mattress, and it is still no where to be found. I freeze when I hear the tossing and turning of others awakening from my fiddling.
"Who's makin' all that damn fuss?!" A tired voice groans from across the cabin.
"Sorry..." I whisper. I seat myself on the wooden floor and sigh in defeat, abandoning the idea that I misplaced what i'm looking for. I get up and begin to re-organize my things, placing them neatly into my crate in the order that I always do. I'm organized alright. If something is no longer where I last left it, then someone took it. Just as i'm about to go back to bed I hear the creaks of someone getting down from their bunk. A small hand touches my leg.
"Is this what you lookin for 'Tha?" A little voice calls out to me. I turn around to face a small girl with innocent eyes looking up at me. Her little hands holding a book in front of her face. Wait. My book.
"Poppy!" I shriek.
"Lord! Who is still makin' noise?! I'm tryna' sleep!" The tired voice groans again.
"Sorry..." I whisper, realizing how loud I had just hollered. I refocus my attention on little Poppy. I kneel down to face level with the child and look into her eyes. "Now Pop, where did you find this?"
"I took it from yer crate." She replies. I rip the book out of her hands.
"Why are you touchin' my things?! You know I don't like it when you do that!" I scold her, still whispering.
"I just wanted to know why you always be doodling in it. I was gonna' put it back. I'm sorry." She apologizes.
"If any of the white folks find out about my book, I could get in big trouble." I whisper, looking at Poppy with wide enraged eyes. "Do you want me to get whipped?!" I continue.
"No! I'm sorry 'Tha! I really am!" Tears begin to fill Poppy's big brown eyes.
"Promise me you won't touch my things, and promise me you won't tell a soul 'bout my book." I demand.
"I promise on my grave!" Poppy whispers, now in full tears.
"Come here, give me a hug. No need to cry now." I take Poppy into my arms.
"Can I sleep with you tonight?" Little Poppy asks. I give her a smile and nod. I then squeeze my book under my mattress, making sure she doesn't see. I put out the lantern then hop into bed with Poppy still in my arms. "Hey, 'Tha?" Poppy whispers.
"Yeah Pop?" I reply.
"I like what you be drawin' in yer book. It's pretty."
"If you stop snoopin' 'round my stuff, i'll teach you how to draw like me."
"Really?! You promise?" Poppy whispers in excitement.
"I promise on my grave." I assure her.
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