it.”
Clarissa grimaced and said, “Let me do it then.” She leaned over the pot and scooped as much of the soup into her ladle as it would hold. There were living things inside the drink that slithered into her mouth and squirmed inside of her stomach. Small bones rattled against her teeth but she crushed them and swallowed.
“All of it. You must drink all of it.” The old woman picked up the chicken carcass and slit it open with a knife. She pulled out the animal’s heart and squeezed it in her hand, making blood drip onto the dirt floor of the hut. She drew a circle with the blood, making symbols inside of it then sprinkling powder from a rusted can along the borders of the circle. “Stay back, stupid,” she shouted at Henry Jim.
There were screams outside and the sound of something crashing toward them.
The old woman looked up, startled, “Him not supposed to be here so soon. Hurry!” She began chanting and ordering Clarissa to drink faster.
Clarissa finished another ladle and her head began to spin. Bile spooled up from her stomach and into her mouth, but still she swallowed more. Finally, the ladle scraped the bottom of the pot and the old woman grabbed Clarissa’s hand. She sliced Clarissa’s palm and shook out a few droplets of blood onto the dirt at the center of the circle.
A pearl white hand grabbed the fabric of the hut at the entrance and tore it aside. Henry Jim rose up in defense, but the pale man swatted him aside. The old woman raised her fist and said, “You cannot keep her! She do not belong to you!”
Gauna rushed forward to grab her, he stepped inside the circle and instantly stopped moving.
“Now, child, out of the tent while he is bound!”
Clarissa crawled past his legs for the entrance, sliding out of the tent and collapsing in the dirt. The old woman scurried out behind her and lifted her dagger over Clarissa’s heart. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes!” Clarissa begged. “Do it!”
***
Francis Jennings stampeded through the tent city, yelling for his wife. He raised his voice high over the screaming slaves running past, trying to escape the worker’s. Jennings looked at the far end of the encampment and screamed. An old negress stood over Clarissa, stabbing her repeatedly. Jennings lifted his rifle and fired, sending a bullet through the old woman’s skull, but Clarissa did not move.
The next morning, they hanged ten slaves from the branches of the tallest trees on the plantation. All went to their death swearing they had not even been at the camp during the incident. The house negro, Henry Jim, was lashed until the muscles of his back were exposed. The overseers hanged him upside down by his ankles and left him for the carrion crows to finish.
Clarissa Rutherford Jennings was buried at the edge of her father’s tobacco plantation near an apple orchard. Mr. Paul told the mourners that it was the first place she had brought him to when he arrived there fresh off the boat, and longing for his family. He told them a story about watching Clarissa dance around an apple tree in a way that made him believe he’d found a new home. He wept too bitterly to finish the story, and was escorted away. As he passed Mr. Rutherford he patted the old man on the shoulder, but there was no response. Mr. Rutherford remained silent until he asked to be taken back to the house before the service was finished.
Francis Jennings touched the cross erected over his wife’s grave and lowered his head, saying one final prayer before leaving. He did not look at her grave again as he returned to the house.
An hour later, Clarissa awoke.
***
The bottom of my boat bounces on the riverbed beneath and I know that we are close to shore. There are warnings carved into the trees along the bank, telling travelers to go no
Clarissa grimaced and said, “Let me do it then.” She leaned over the pot and scooped as much of the soup into her ladle as it would hold. There were living things inside the drink that slithered into her mouth and squirmed inside of her stomach. Small bones rattled against her teeth but she crushed them and swallowed.
“All of it. You must drink all of it.” The old woman picked up the chicken carcass and slit it open with a knife. She pulled out the animal’s heart and squeezed it in her hand, making blood drip onto the dirt floor of the hut. She drew a circle with the blood, making symbols inside of it then sprinkling powder from a rusted can along the borders of the circle. “Stay back, stupid,” she shouted at Henry Jim.
There were screams outside and the sound of something crashing toward them.
The old woman looked up, startled, “Him not supposed to be here so soon. Hurry!” She began chanting and ordering Clarissa to drink faster.
Clarissa finished another ladle and her head began to spin. Bile spooled up from her stomach and into her mouth, but still she swallowed more. Finally, the ladle scraped the bottom of the pot and the old woman grabbed Clarissa’s hand. She sliced Clarissa’s palm and shook out a few droplets of blood onto the dirt at the center of the circle.
A pearl white hand grabbed the fabric of the hut at the entrance and tore it aside. Henry Jim rose up in defense, but the pale man swatted him aside. The old woman raised her fist and said, “You cannot keep her! She do not belong to you!”
Gauna rushed forward to grab her, he stepped inside the circle and instantly stopped moving.
“Now, child, out of the tent while he is bound!”
Clarissa crawled past his legs for the entrance, sliding out of the tent and collapsing in the dirt. The old woman scurried out behind her and lifted her dagger over Clarissa’s heart. “Are you prepared?”
“Yes!” Clarissa begged. “Do it!”
***
Francis Jennings stampeded through the tent city, yelling for his wife. He raised his voice high over the screaming slaves running past, trying to escape the worker’s. Jennings looked at the far end of the encampment and screamed. An old negress stood over Clarissa, stabbing her repeatedly. Jennings lifted his rifle and fired, sending a bullet through the old woman’s skull, but Clarissa did not move.
The next morning, they hanged ten slaves from the branches of the tallest trees on the plantation. All went to their death swearing they had not even been at the camp during the incident. The house negro, Henry Jim, was lashed until the muscles of his back were exposed. The overseers hanged him upside down by his ankles and left him for the carrion crows to finish.
Clarissa Rutherford Jennings was buried at the edge of her father’s tobacco plantation near an apple orchard. Mr. Paul told the mourners that it was the first place she had brought him to when he arrived there fresh off the boat, and longing for his family. He told them a story about watching Clarissa dance around an apple tree in a way that made him believe he’d found a new home. He wept too bitterly to finish the story, and was escorted away. As he passed Mr. Rutherford he patted the old man on the shoulder, but there was no response. Mr. Rutherford remained silent until he asked to be taken back to the house before the service was finished.
Francis Jennings touched the cross erected over his wife’s grave and lowered his head, saying one final prayer before leaving. He did not look at her grave again as he returned to the house.
An hour later, Clarissa awoke.
***
The bottom of my boat bounces on the riverbed beneath and I know that we are close to shore. There are warnings carved into the trees along the bank, telling travelers to go no
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