She shivered, staring out at the crowd before her. They were mostly rough looking men, and the thought of going home with any of them nearly frightened her to death. She had heard the stories for years, and now she was about to experience it. "Oh Lord," she asked in her mind, "Why? Why?"
Her life had been different only a week before. She had lived in New England as a free black woman. It wasn't a perfect life, and she certainly wasn't equal to the whites, but it was a life that a slave would dream of. She had learned to read and write and had gotten an education. She taught at an all black school and went to church every Sunday.
That evening she had been walking home later than usual from a meeting with a woman's group at the church. They had spent the night drinking tea and putting together quilts, laughing and telling stories from earlier that day. By the time she left, it had become dark outside. She had been nervous walking alone in the dark but was getting closer to her house and began to relax. No sooner had she began to feel calmer, when an arm wrapped around her waist and a hand covered her mouth before she could scream. She struggled against the stranger, trying her best to get away, but it was useless. The person behind her was a man who weighed twice as much as she. She tried biting his hand, but was shocked to receive a hard slap across her face. He continued to drag her towards a wagon that seemed to be waiting for them. Many days later, several other blacks from her town, as well as others picked up along the way and were brought somewhere in the Deep South. She didn't even know what state she was in. But did it really matter now? Here she was, on a stage, no, make that an auction block, soon to become a slave.
Jacob stood silently among the group of hollering men. He felt uncomfortable and very out of place. He had always tried to avoid this scene and had been sickened by the institution of slavery but now here he was, ready to buy a human being. He was no better than the rowdy, sick men around him. He was working very long hours as he had been assigned the sheriff's deputy. At the end of a long day, he just wanted to go home and fall asleep. But his horses, pigs and chickens needed tending to, his house was a mess, and he was barely able to put together meals to feed himself. He decided to get a young man, about his age to help out with the chores. He figured it could be good company as well. There would be someone to smoke with out on the porch and play a game of cards every once in a while.
Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted from catcalls and whistles throughout the crowd. That was when he saw her. The sight of her took his breath away; she was absolutely beautiful. She was a young black woman, probably in her early twenties. She had golden brown skin and dark curly hair. It was much straighter than most black peoples'. He guessed she might be the product of a slave and her master. Unfortunately, it was a common occurrence here in the South. He looked at her closer, observing her petite body with perfect curves. Her dress hugged her small waist and fell down to her ankles. However, on top, it was not so modest. A large rip ran from the neck to her chest, exposing the curve of her heaving breasts. She seemed frightened and that she had been roughed up quite a bit before hand. Poor girl.
