by Koboah, A D
Chapter Nine
When I woke up again the sun was high in the sky and blazed through the window in a shaft of hazy gold. I was also completely alone.
I got to my feet and stretched carefully. Back at the plantation I had often sought solitude at the chapel but it was one thing to be able to choose brief moments of seclusion and another to have total isolation forced upon you as it was now. The silence in this place was so deep that it seemed to swallow everything. Not even the sound of the birds singing outside could come close to penetrating it.
Remembering what the demon had said about my not being able to leave, I ran out of the room and down a long, dusty corridor to the front door. Surprisingly it was unlocked and I flung the door open and rushed outside into the fierce sunlight.
The demon had left me in a large imposing mansion that sat between two oak trees. The red paint had faded long ago to a dusky pink; there were roof tiles missing, and the foliage surrounding the mansion had completely run amok. There was something pitiful about the mansion’s current state of disrepair. It was like a once beautiful woman now in her autumn years, shying away from the gaze of the world behind the oak trees. Surrounding the mansion was a field of wild Queen Anne’s lace, so-called because the flowers resembled patches of white lace. At the back of the building was a cluster of trees, which thickened gradually into woodland farther on.
Beyond the field of flowers at the front, the grassland seemed to stretch on for miles. I squinted into the distance at the green carpet, using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. Was that line of brown a road?
I started running, ignoring the pain rippling along the left side of my body, taking long lunging steps through the field of flowers. Yes. I could see it properly now. It was a road, a dirt road that wasn’t well used. But if it was there then it must lead somewhere, which meant there was a chance I would be well away from here and amongst other people before the demon returned at dusk.
I didn’t know where I was or if I was even still in Mississippi. I also knew that even if I did find human beings, I was far from safe as it was likely I would be seen as a runaway and at the mercy of whomever I came across. And if by some miracle they believed my strange story of being spirited away by a demon, the plantation and Mama Akosua, who was probably the only person who could save me, were no doubt far away from here. This meant I would be endangering the lives of anyone kind enough to try and help me return.
But if there was a chance for me to get away from that evil being, then I would take it. So I ran, soaring and leaping over the field of flowers beneath my feet.
However, the closer I got to the road, the harder it was to keep running. My limbs felt heavy, as if they had been dipped in lead, and when I got close enough to see the road clearly reaching out into the distance and salvation, I was hit by nausea so intense I stumbled to a stop, a moan escaping my lips as I sank to the ground.
What was happening to me?
I moved away from the road and began to crawl back to the mansion. After a few paces, miraculously, the nausea began to drain away. I got to my feet uncertainly, expecting it to rise up again, but nothing happened. I took a few steps toward the house and found that it was completely gone. I felt perfectly well again apart from my hunger, thirst and aching muscles.
I faced the road as realisation dawned. Even looking at it made me feel ill. Turning to my left, I walked about five metres in a straight line. The queasiness left instantly. Then I did the same thing in the opposite direction. I still felt fine. I went back to the centre, took one step forward and then broke into a run.
This time when the nausea hit it was like running into a wall and I went crashing to the ground. I began to heave, the dry, hoarse sounds breaking through the stillness all around me. Relief came the moment I crawled away from the road toward the mansion and as I sat in the grass looking back at the road shimmering in the heat of the midday sun, I felt rage tempered with the nausea it had induced in me.
You will not be able to leave here, so do not try, it had said to me.
I let out another hoarse cry and pounded the earth with my fist.
I was a slave. That meant that I was used to having every aspect of my life under the control of another. But having this degree of domination forced upon me was intolerable. My mind was the only thing I had that wasn’t governed by another human being. And this creature wanted to take that away from me too?
Angry, tired and feeling despair take over at the thought of my situation, I picked myself up and walked back to the house, for there was nothing else left for me to do.
In the kitchen I found food laid out on the table. Bread, fruit and vegetables, along with things like flour, herbs and spices. There was also meat, fish, milk and butter, which I found in a bucket hung down the well at the back of the house. I was so happy to see all that food that I pounced on the bread and crammed a fistful into my mouth before I had time to think. Back at the plantation, food for slaves consisted of rations of milk, cornmeal, some vegetables, molasses and a little bit of meat once a week. Even though we house slaves were often lucky enough to have whatever titbits the Master’s family didn’t finish at mealtimes, like every other slave on the plantation we never really had enough food to eat. I was so used to being deprived that I couldn’t be sure all this food had been left for me. So although my stomach was grumbling loudly, I only took another handful of bread before I left the kitchen to explore the rest of the mansion.
Most of the rooms had not seen a living person in them in years; they were dark and dingy with cobwebs and thick layers of dust over all the surfaces. In the master bedroom, a particularly forbidding room with a deep red decor, I found water for bathing and items on the bed that had obviously been left for me. I saw the jewellery and dresses that I had found in the chapel along with other things like toiletries and shoes, not the sturdy leather boots a slave needed for long days of heavy toil, but dainty little shoes that my mistress would wear.
Without the fear I had felt in the chapel scorching my mind, I found myself seduced by the things that had been left for me. I ran my fingers down a particularly beautiful cerulean blue gown. All the clothes I had ever owned were ill-fitting hand-me-downs and the thought of wearing such a beautiful dress elicited a deep yearning in my deprived soul.
I carefully gathered up the necklace and held it aloft to watch the light play on the large ruby. It was simply breathtaking and when I placed it against my chest a shiver of excitement ran through me. That was what made me put the necklace carefully back on the bed and take a step back from all those beautiful things.
All of this felt like some kind of bribe and reminded me of the way Master John had tried to entice me with a pair of Mistress Emily’s old shoes and other little gifts in the beginning. He knew that none of the female slaves had a choice about bedding with him, but his vanity made him play these games so he could tell himself it was charm that paved his way into our beds instead of fear and intimidation. At first my refusal to accept his gifts had amused him and he had pursued me for months, the bribes and charm slowly being replaced with threats and slaps until he grew tired of my resistance and took what he wanted anyway.
The things I saw on the bed far outshone anything Master John had tried to give me, but I wouldn’t sell my soul to this demon for a few fancy dresses and jewellery.
The only things I would allow myself to touch were the items I couldn’t do without such as the toiletries. Those dresses I would never wear, though my eyes lingered on them as I left the room.
In the attic I found some very old clothes that were far too big, but they were preferable to accepting the bribes in the master bedroom. Then I took a bath, crying silently as I washed the flaking brown crust of Jupiter’s blood off my skin. Overcome with grief, I could only hope and pray that the creature had not lied to me about taking Jupiter and Father Geoffrey back to safety. After bathing, I washed my dress and wore one of the ones I had found in the attic, not caring that it looked like a la
rge green, musty-smelling sack.
After a very light lunch of an apple, and with nothing else to do, I began to clean the kitchen. By the time I’d finished, the bruised muscles from the fall were screaming in pain and I was starting to feel dizzy. So the most I could do for the rest of that afternoon was dust and sweep the drawing room. Besides, it was probably not a good idea to make myself too useful considering the situation I was in.
Now there was nothing left for me to do but wait. I was exhausted but my anxious mind wouldn’t rest long enough to let me sleep, so I wandered the rooms of the weeping mansion and even ventured outside for a walk (being careful of course, to stay well away from the road).
At the plantation I was used to having my every waking moment filled with work. So finding myself with hours to spare, alone in a strange and silent house with only my thoughts to occupy me, was a terrible thing.
I was plagued with images of the night before and also the things I had deliberately kept from my mind. Thoughts and memories better left in the dark. And I had nothing to look forward to that evening but the return of a supernatural being that had unlimited control over not just my body, but my mind as well.
I was alone and doomed. At the plantation I had kept myself isolated from the other Negroes, apart from Mary. Now I realised just how much I needed the comforting presence of the other slaves, the sound of singing drifting from the fields whenever I walked past, and the pleasant murmur of gossip amongst the house slaves whenever there was a moment to spare. I thought about this now because the events of the last two nights assured me that I would soon die. Death was something I had never been afraid of. In fact, it had always seemed like a long-sought ally that would free me from the peculiar burdens of a female slave. No, I wasn’t afraid of dying. I was only afraid of dying alone and of what I would have to endure before death came to my aid. So by the time the sun began to set I was frightened, angry, and utterly devoid of hope.
***
One hour past sunset and the demon hadn’t returned. That’s when fear became the dominant emotion in the thick melee going round and round in my head.
I was in the drawing room I had woken up in that morning, waiting for something that shouldn’t be of this world. And I didn’t know what terrified me more, the thought that he would soon return to do whatever he had brought me here to do, or that he wouldn’t return at all.
Then I heard a noise outside.
I sprang to my feet and the fear reached fever pitch when I heard the front door open and then footsteps in the corridor.
That couldn’t be the demon I heard moving down the corridor as he simply would have materialised in the drawing room. Panicked, I looked around the room, my heart pounding as those heavy footsteps reached the drawing room door.
Who could that be?
I thought about trying to hide but in the end all I could do was watch in abject terror as the doorknob began to turn and the door was pushed open.
A tall, handsome white man with shoulder-length brown hair entered the room. He was dressed in black trousers, a navy blue coat over a white shirt, a tan waistcoat and white cravat. He was also carrying a white box under one arm. He gazed at me, not in astonishment at finding a stranger in his house, but with an expression of hopeful anticipation, which slowly turned to bemusement and then outright concern.
“Luna?”
It was the same soft voice and if it wasn’t for the unusual accent, in my fear I may not have recognised that the man before me was the demon I had been waiting for.
I sank down on the loveseat, and tried to get my breathing back to normal. He walked over to the table and put the box down, then stood watching me like a man waiting for the guillotine to fall. I felt myself explode.
“What you do that for?” I screamed as tears filled my eyes.
He flinched like a startled hare and it was a few moments before he answered.
“I...I do not—”
“Why you be walking in here like that—and wearing them clothes?”
He looked completely mystified.
“I thought that if I came here today like this.” He gestured to the clothes. “And moved like a man, you would not be so frightened of me. But I see now that you thought I was someone else.”
“Yes!” I hissed.
“I am sorry,” he said when I stood up abruptly. “But that is not the only reason you are angry.”
“No, it ain’t,” I replied, furiously wiping away the tears.
“I see now.”
I waited for him to ask what else had made me angry, but he didn’t. He only continued to stare at me, looking more than a little uneasy the longer he stared.
“What you do to me?” I asked when it became apparent that he wasn’t going to speak. I started pacing back and forth and gestured wildly. “At the road when I’s trying to leave. What you do to be making me feel that way?”
“I told you not to leave, Luna. You know it would not—”
“I didn’t ask that! I ask what you done to me!” I stopped and stood with my hands on my hips. “And why has you brung me here. What you want with me?”
He looked away at the last question and I could see that he was becoming agitated again.
“Luna—”
“Don’t be calling me that!”
He flinched at the harshness of my tone then opened his mouth as if to speak and closed it again, his gaze falling to the ground as he considered what I had said. When he looked up again he was clearly confused.
“Luna, I do not understand—”
“I says don’t be calling me that! You shouldn’t know my name! How does you know my name?”
“You...you are angry and hysterical, Luna. I see that being on your own all day has not been good for you. Sleep for awhile and then we will talk.”
He locked his gaze on mine and I immediately began to feel the same light-headedness I always felt right before he robbed me of consciousness. But before it could overcome me and without giving myself time to think about what I was about to do, I lurched across the space between us and struck him across the face.
It was like hitting a tree and although my palm stung, I was sure that to him, the slap had felt like no more than a fly landing on his cheek.
But it seemed as if I had succeeded nonetheless because I felt him release his hold on my mind and my head began to clear.
“Don’t you never do that again,” I said bringing my stinging hand up under my arm.
He stared at me in amazement, a hint of fascination lurking in his gaze before he glanced down at the hand I was holding protectively under my arm.
“Your hand,” he said and tentatively reached for it before he quickly withdrew.
We stood there for a few moments, me glaring at him and trying to ignore my throbbing palm whilst he struggled to regain some kind of equilibrium. Finally he spoke.
“You have a very strong mind, Luna. No one has ever been able to resist me for even the few moments it took for you to cross over to me. At the chapel, when you were kneeling by the stream, you did not know what was happening, yet you not only resisted, you were able to push against me as I tried to move the rock away from your face.”
He said all this with an air of reverence that I found hard to believe.
“You think it is your body that I want. But it is your mind that interests me.”
I took a step back, my wayward emotions somewhat calmed by my small victory.
“You’s interested in my mind?” I scoffed. “Ain’t no white man I know ever been interested in a slave for her mind.”
“I am not a man. Never forget that, Luna,” he said softly, echoes of despair in his voice.
Those words should have scared me but it was hard to be afraid of this creature when he was being so docile and behaving as if he were a little bit frightened of me.
“You see,” he continued, “I...I was in the woods and I heard you in the chapel praying and then when you came to the stream, I saw your face and I couldn�
��t let any harm come to you because I have seen your face before.”
“When?” I demanded.
“Many years...many decades ago. Before you were born. Before your mother was even born, I saw your face as if in a dream. And I have continued to see it ever since.”
“You saw me before I was borned? How?”
“I do not know.” He moved closer to me. “But do you understand now that when I saw what you meant to do by the stream, I had to stop you. I could not let you do anything to the face that has been haunting me for so, so long.”
I felt uncomfortable with his nearness and the longing I saw in his eyes. It seemed to burn into my skull. But I remained where I was as he brought his hand to hover above my forehead, tracing a line in the air from my forehead, down my nose and across my cheek. It was exactly the path the rock would have taken if he hadn’t stopped me.
“It would not have made a difference anyway,” he continued. “You are exceptionally beautiful. Nothing can ever take that away.” He made as if to cup my cheek and I stepped away.
“You says you heard me praying,” I said as I went to the loveseat and sat. “All the way out there in them trees?”
“Yes. My hearing is a lot more powerful than a human’s. I was standing outside by the trees but heard every word you said.”
He could hear me from that distance? What else could this thing do? And what chance did I have of escaping him if he was as powerful as he said?
“I want you to know that I regret the way in which I sought you out. You see, I thought you would know me and know what I was. I did not consider the possibility that I would frighten you.”
“Of course I’s scared of you. You’s trying to kill me!”
“Dear God, no, Luna. I promise you, I would die rather than harm you.”
“You’s waiting in my cabin last night and if Massa John ain’t get there first, I be dead now!” I snarled.
“No. You have completely—”
