The Runaway - Emma's escape

Today, I am introducing the final in my series of character studies from my up and coming novel, The Runaway. Allow me to introduce to you, Emma. Now, you may be wondering how she fits in with the other characters you've met so far, given that she lives and functions in 1864, but I'm going to have to ask you to extend to me a little trust. Her story touches and influences the lives of several of the present day characters in very significant ways. You will find out how when the novel is completed.

Story premise:

A young woman is found unconscious and bleeding from a gunshot in an alley. She has no identification and there are no witnesses to her assault. She is taken to the hospital where she eventually regains consciousness but has no memory for her identity.

With the help of a police detective and her neurologist, she works to regain the pieces of her missing life. Over time, memories begin to surface, leading to clues about her identity. The clock is ticking, however, for buried within her locked subconscious are the clues not only to the murder attempt on her life, but the details of an assassination plot on an African American candidate for the presidency of the United States.

Emma’s Escape

Good afternoon. My name is Emma. I am nineteen years old. I am owned by massa Horace and Letitia Kramer-George. We live on the George plantation in Montgomery County, Georgia. My early childhood was good and was fairly comfortable, despite the fact I was a slave. That is, until I reached my fourteenth year. That was about the time that ole massa George took notice of me and began to whisper foul things in my ear. I did not fully understand all of the things he said to me, but I knew enough to know they should not be said to a well-brought up young lady.

As you might have guessed, I was not fully aware that I was a slave before then. My grandmother had earned a certain degree of respect in our community, even amongst the white folk. She was given a house set apart from slave quarters. I never knew my mother; I believe that she may have been sold away to another plantation but no one has ever actually spoken to me about it. My Nana is the only mother I’ve ever known. I was allowed to attend school and learned how to read and write; indeed, I attended lessons right along sides of Ms. Laura. That is, until my ninth year when I was put to work full time in the kitchens. My lessons continued however for several years longer, as Ms Laura would sneak down to the kitchen and teach me things she had learned that day. As I look back now though, I could guess that she did it, not so much for me, but to spite her parents.

As I said, despite my status, I would say that my early childhood was a happy one until my fourteenth year. Massa George continued to look and talk to me in ways that made me extremely uncomfortable. He would ever offer the occasional present, but it remained just that, talk. I did my best to avoid being around him and would always run away if he came upon me suddenly. It was not until much later that I understood that he allowed me to run from him; that at any point, he had the right to demand my complete obedience, as I was nothing more to him than his property. I would dare say that it was his “respect” for my Nana that stayed his hands all those years. I am fairly certain that my age had little to do with it, you see, I was familiar with the rumors about girls as young as twelve having children or being sold away suddenly or under mysterious circumstances.

Things changed, however, in my sixteenth year. I suppose, Massa George figured he had no further need to wait and he took me. That day seemed but as yesterday, so well I remember it. I could look for no protection from my Nana or from anyone else, for that matter. I implored him to reconsider but it was for naught. When I continued to resist, he grabbed me and told me that I belonged to him, I was his property, and therefore subject to his will in all things. I was obliged to do whatever he told me to do, whenever I was told to do it.

That day, I lost more than my physical innocence. That day, I fully understood what it meant to be owned by another person, to be nothing more than a piece of merchandise, to be a slave. To have no say in what happened to my body; to have no one willing or able to intervene on my behalf. That was the day I realized there was no such thing as justice. I figured out that day that Nana and all those other ole slaves had it wrong. That white God they prayed to and cast all their cares upon, cared only for free white folk. The slave had only themselves and that was only a paltry little bit.

I was eventually with child. I had, at least initially, no particular feel about it one way or another. I had become immune to all feeling, dealing as I was with constant debasement and humiliation. The day the mid-wife placed this white, red-faced, screaming babe in my arms, I looked at it and her in confusion. How could this blue eyed-blond child emerge from my loins? The child and I looked at each other for the longest time, both of us appearing to come to terms with the other. He closed his eyes and then rested trustingly in my arms, and it was then I knew that he truly belonged to me.

He brought me back to life, my blue-eyed baby boy. Nothing could touch me, not even the debased and foul acts that the ole massa continued to inflict upon me daily. I endured it all because I knew that in the evenings, my baby boy would fill me with a joy that nothing in this evil world could ever taint.

I should have known that this would not last; that joy and happiness is a luxury not bestowed upon slaves. Children born to slaves are still slaves. I should have realized that. They are trusted to their parents only for safekeeping and liable to be demanded at any point. Ms Lettie got sight of my baby boy one afternoon as she drove past headed into town. She knew immediately how my child came to be. Anyone with eyes to see would know that babe was begat by Massa George, what with the blond hair and bright blues eyes. Those same eyes possessed by every male in the George family clan.

Ms. Lettie devised a plan more evil than anything the old massa had done to that point. The consequences of which will be felt for generations to come.

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For those of you who have followed this series, thank you so much for you reading and for offering your comments and feedback. They have been very helpful in refining the original idea I had for this novel.

I have completed Act One, which is the first 6 chapters, and I know how it will end, so Act Three is also nearly complete. Act Two will be the most difficult and time intensive, and so, bear with me.

I'll let you know when it's done.

Thanks again!!