Sunrise to sunset, on the field. Everytime I pull my hoe I can feel my soul diminishing into the hand of my white masters, the Cater family. I feel the sun burning my skin with every ray. I hear tobacco leaves shaking and dancing as my fellow slaves and I work on the field. I see tobacco stretching to as far as my eyes can see. I look at my outfit. I see a dirty, scratched up white shirt filled with memories. Memories of being whipped, screamed at, beaten. Blood stretched against my back. I wear dark disgusting pants. And my feet, shoeless, rubbing against the swampy ground of the plantation. I look at my hands and see my skin, black as the pupil in my eye. I wonder to myself, “when will this end? When will people like me break free of our white masters’ hands? Will it be my son, or my son’s son, or my son’s son’s son that will experience a better life?” I look around and see a field full of destroyed souls. I remember how it was back in Angola. When people like me weren’t tortured because of their skin. When people had the freedom to live their own life. I slow down and pray to God, hoping for a chance. A chance to for me to live for me and not for a white man’s needs.

“Jemmy!” screams my master. Red fear rushing through my blood as all of my bones stiffens. My body freezes as my tears continue to roll down my cheeks. Rubbing against my rough face.

“Yes Mr. Cater.”

“Why the hell are you slowing down?” wonders my masters. He stands straight as a board. He wears a puffy outfit with layers of clothing. His veins popping out of his pale skin. And his silver white wig curling down his neck.

“You better not be dreaming agains!”

“Sorry Mr. Cater. It was just for a while, it will never…”

“You know negroes aren’t supposed to be free. Stop clouding your mind with unrealistic foolish fantasies! Look.” My master stomps towards me with a frown stretching along his face. His shiny shoes splashing mud against my strong legs. He picks up my hoe and shoves it into a tobacco leaf.

“This hoe and these leaves are all you have to worry about!” His scream shoots spit all over my face. “Now stop have stupid dreams of negroes, like you, being released.”

Today my master was being nice. Usually the family that owns me would whip, beat or throw objects at me. And every time they do so I have to stand their, absorbing all of their anger.

In the middle of the night, while my masters aren’t watching, us slaves gather around in a circle. We light the night with our torches. Every night we would discuss how we could escape. I would always lead these meetings since, unlike the other slaves, I was educated by my masters. We have developed a plan that would kill our and many other slave owners.

“See these?” I say to rows of twenty sweaty, beat up faces. Their expressions glow from the light emitted from our touches. Light sparkling of their sweat. They all stare at the tools in my rough hands; a hoe and a pitch fork.

“To the white men these are simple tools only to be used for the field. But these can be more. We can be more. We can use these tools as weapons to fight back.” I sit back down on the log behind me to take a couple of deep breathes.

“They took to much from us. And I ain’t ever gonna let them take anymore.”

We all gather around the plantation manor. We assumed everyone in their was asleep. Each of us with a glowing torches in our hands. One of the slaves walk to me. I can see the fear dancing in his eyes.

“What if we fail?” He says. “What if this is all useless? What if they defeat us. What if we…die? I mean…what if…this is all for nothing?”

He look up at our master’s mansion. Its white walls glowing with the orange from our torches in this dark night. Everyone preparing to burn down this building and every rotten soul in it.

“You see…I don’t care if we live or die. I don’t care if the white men live or die. I don’t care if the take our heads and hang them on sticks ’cause I know that’s what’s gonna happen. But you don’t understand. The fight isn’t if we slaughter every white man on earth or not. It isn’t if every white men suffers for every time they enslaved one of us or not. The fight is if we get what we deserve or not. Even if we die this night, as long as I know that some day people like us will get what we were never able to have then I’m fine.”

My group starts throwing torches at the manor. The butt of the building glowing with fire.

“And what is that?” asks the slave.

I think about the journey ahead of us. I think of the lives behind us. I think about all the struggle we’ve been through. I think about every tear that dropped from our eyes. I think of all we ever asked for.

“Freedom.”

Hello, my name is Israel Hans. I’m second in command of captain Blackbeard’s ship. I don’t know why people call him Periwinkle. My life on this pirate ship is much better than my old life on land. Pirates do not fit in well with the land people. I used to be a thief. I looted taverns and stole from houses. One day I was caught while breaking into a mansion. I had heard that the Governor of Carolina was there staying as a guest. People said he had lots of gold in his room. I picked the lock on the front door and snuck into his room. I had looted from this house before when there was another special guest staying there so I knew the house pretty well. Once I got to the Governor’s room I looked all around. It was full of fancy things, I wanted to take it all but I couldn’t fit it into my bag. Finally I found a chest. I was big and heavy. I couldn’t pick it up so I tried to break the lock. This was no lock I have seen before. It was gold and giant. I was sure that I couldn’t break this lock. I tried and tried until I could hear footsteps. I could feel my heart started to beat. I’ve never been caught before and surely if I got caught I would be executed. I was stealing from the Governor! I looked around for any hiding spots. There was nothing. The footsteps were getting closer. Finally I could hear the door open.

“Ay you! What are you doing! Guards!” said the Governor. The sound of the armor clinking from the guards was getting closer by the second. “Seize him!” yelled the Governor. The guards came at me and grabbed me. I was taken to the jail in the lower town. It was stinky and dark. I was scared I was to be executed in 2 days.

“Ahh!!” Thump. I looked out my jail cell and saw a fearsome man with a beard as black as the night. I felt his presents and I knew who he was, Blackbeard. The most fearsome pirate in the 7 seas. He took the keys from the guard and went over to the cells. “Let’s go me matey’s before the alarm sounds” He said in a voice I had never heard. I had never met a pirate in my 20 years. We all followed him and his crew and ran towards a little row boat. I did not know why he would come here. This place was not a safe place for pirates. If he was found he would be ripped apart and his body parts would be hung all around the city for people to see. I could see the giant Queen Anne’s Revenge on the water. With a crew of over 300 on the ship standing guard with their axes, cutlasses and blunderbusses. I thought what it would be like as a pirate because once I got to that boat I would choose to die or to become a pirate. All those riches that I can get and the gold, it made my mouth water. We got to the boat and went up the ladder on the side. The wood was rough and cold and dark. I looked up at the sails. They were black and the flag was ripped and flying all the way up at the top of the dark spine chilling sails, not like any sail in the whole new world. I looked at the crew. They had scars deeper than the sea and eye patches as dark as a raven. Never had I seen before such a ship.

“Let’s set sail!” Said Blackbeard in that deathlike voice. “You two come with me into my cabin” He was looking at me and the other person saved from jail. We looked at each other I could tell we were both scared. We went to the captain’s cabin and there was Blackbeard. The one and only playing with his black, black beard. “What is your name.” He said

“I’m Israel Hans”

“I’m William Howard” Said the guy next to me. Neither did we know that we would become the 3rd and 2nd in command on Blackbeard’s ship.

“A Look At the Colonial World Through the Eyes of….”

My name is Edward Wharley I am a Dutch sailor whose father was a Blacksmith so I have picked up some skills. When I was nine I joined the Dutch Navy and trained with the ships Blacksmith. I am quite skilled now and when the pirates attacked my I was captured I am 15 now. I am male, I am an outlaw I am afraid. The pirates are torturing me, forcing me to become a pirate. But I won’t give in, I will not turn into one of them, those illiterate fools! those devils. Every day Captain Christoph beats me, destroys me and feeds me stale bread and mucky water. But I am not all worried about the Captain, I am worried about the cough that I caught a month ago, I think it’s getting worse. My good friend Adé was killed when the pirates attacked. I miss him he could cheer me up whenever I felt down. I liked him a lot, I can’t say the same for Captain Christoph.

I am planning an escape. One night I am going to sign the papers. But I will kill Captain Christoph once I am fully recovered. After that I will convince the crew to follow me and if they don’t they will pay. I will sail back to the Netherlands collect my prize for capturing pirates and retire from sailing and live the rest of my life as a Blacksmith. But for now I must take the pain. I must appeal to the lower of the crew make them like me make them want to follow me. They say that the Africans are not as good as us Europeans, but I’ve seen them fight. They are as good fighters that I have ever seen They will make up some of my men if I decide to sail under the flag of the… Jolly Roger. I can only dream and wonder for now. But I have a lot of time to dream, and wonder. I will think up a plan it will work Captain Christoph will pay for what he’s done to me what he will do to me and what he has done to many others. But what if I in all my anger become him. After all the phoenix after he dies is still the same bird. No matter I will not die I will not perish I will not fail I will prevail…

PS. Whomever finds this, run.
From,
Edward

Every day I wake up at sunrise and for that one second I am happy, I imagine my husband right beside me and my children running around the house. Then I remember what I lost. I remember the vision of my husband dead on the noose in the town square. I remember the look on my childrens faces as they were forced to watch. Then I cry, I cry all of my hate and anger out. After I’m done I put on a straight face, I have to stay strong for my children.

“Mother!”

“Yes dear what is it,” I know what it is, every morning my oldest daughter Amber remembers it like I do.

“I miss dad,” She says trying to catch her breath. Tears roll down her face and I run to comfort her. It hurts to see her hurt, I want to cry but I have to be brave for her. Amber is 10, he died when she was 6. I was pregnant when he died. I was pregnant with twins, Amelia and Carter. They are now 3, almost 4. Then there’s Caldwell, he is 7 years old and he suffers from memory loss caused by the trauma of his father dying. He doesn’t fully remember but sometimes he gets visions in his mind, like it’s trying to tell him it happened to him. We keep it a secret. One less child that has to suffer the pain. None of the children know why Amber wakes up every morning crying, I tell them she has very bad dreams, which is half true.

At 7:00 the boys go to school and the girls stay home and help me cook and clean. When we are done with that, we sit silently and knit. Sometimes we go for walks when we have time. We rarely get out since he died. Before he was caught stealing food to help feed us he would take me out every evening to a nice tavern down the block.
One night the sky was full of stars. The moon was full, it was a beautiful evening. Mr. MCCarthy was sitting outside playing his violin. Those were the days before he lost his job and was desperate support us, so desperate that he risked his life just for a couple slices of ham. He thought he was helping us. I HATE him for leaving me! I HATE that he made my family hurt, that he left me with no one to love.

Everyone knows me as “the dark widowed woman”, but I am not “the dark widowed woman” I am Abigail Baker. They call me dark because I seem sad. Well of course I feel sad! I lost my husband, I lost security, money, and land with him too. They don’t get what happened to me so they call me dark. People make so many assumptions about me that aren’t true. They are starting to think I’m dangerous!
Well that’s life for you isn’t it. We fear what we don’t understand. I can’t blame them, there are very few widowed women in the town.

Amber and I run a small business in town. We knit and sew quilts and embroidery to sell. Some people won’t even buy something I made, but most people are willing to. Soon Amelia will start learning how to knit and sew. She will help with the business.

“A Look At the Colonial World Through the Eyes of a…”

I’m Ann Wolfsburg. I am the governor’s wife and I’m 32 years old. I have three children, two older sons and one younger daughter. John is the oldest son, and Benjamin is the youngest son. My daughter is a joyful young girl named Bethany. I host many balls and social celebrations. I have blonde hair and blue eyes just like my father. Both of my parents were killed in an accident and I was sent to live with my uncle who is a politician. I got married to my husband at the age of 20. My husband was an important person in our community back in London. I have always been a person people look up to. We came to the New World because my husband was supposed to become a governor. Now we live in the governor’s palace. Since I’m a female I don’t have many things to do. I’m in the gentry class and I have slaves do work for me. However I take care of the household and I teach my daughter how to take care of the household too. My personal servants name is Rubia. I’m excellent friends with all of the moroccans and the King of England. As I said before, I host many balls for colonists in the gentry class. At balls the first dance is the minuet. Of Course my husband and I start off while everyone else watches. I have been taking dance lessons since a very early age, and it would be unacceptable for me to mess up. If I do mess up people will be talking and sending letters to everyone they know about my mistake. For balls I wear a big gown trimmed in gold and silver. I prefer my gowns to be trimmed in silver. My gowns are all made out of silk, which is the most expensive material and I have to money to buy it. Unlike all of the other colonist’s dresses my gowns are made by my personal dressmaker, Nola. I have many gowns, because what would people think if they saw me wearing the same gown. My husband is next to me wearing his finest brocade jackets with designs. He is also wearing a wig, because it symbolises wealth and power. The ballroom is the biggest and by far the fanciest room in the governor’s palace. All of the tables are covered in cloth with designs. I hear the musicians playing music we arranged for them in the other room. I see the colonial cooks, Jane and Anne Johnson bringing out trays of food. There are many birds that were cooked, potatoes, vegetables, and at last the cake. I love desserts and the colonial cooks make the best cakes. I wait for the cake and then, I enjoy the sugar melting in my mouth. After that my husband and I go around and talk with people. I always try to be very nice to all of my fellow colonists. As we finish our conversations, I wonder what do people think of me. Everyone starts to leave slowly, and Rubia helps me to my room. I take off my dress and under it is the undergown. Rubia prepares a bath for me. After I put on my sleeping dress, I go to bed. I also love holidays, holidays bring joy to me. For holidays I decorate my house with pieces of holly. Sometimes I go into the kitchen to see how all of the special food is coming along. I go out to see the beautiful decorations on the street that everyone put up. My heart fills with joy as soon as I see everyone happy and celebrating with their families.   

A Woman in A Tavern

             When I open my light blue eyes, it is still dark outside. The sun is hiding under the solid earth, waiting for the right moment to resurface. Ever since I was little, my sister and I always believed that at night the sun would go under the earth then come back in the morning because it wanted us to all get a goodnight’s sleep. My sister, Candace, is already up, dressed, and ready to go before I can even sit up in my bed. I slowly push off the silky blue blanket and swing my legs off the bed and rise. I yawn and stretch my arms out wide. Before I can even say good morning to my sister, she is out the door. I swiftly make my way over to the bathing room. I take some of the water from the bucket into my hands and throw it on my face, washing away all the germs and dirt. As the cold water hits my face, I feel refreshed. I change into my work outfit, put my hair up, put on my boots, and head out the door with my messenger bag slung over my right shoulder. The cold, crisp wind hits my face right away. I hear my boots clink and clank as I walk down the cobblestone road. The streets are empty and the only noise I hear is the whistle from the wind. I continue walking down the streets in Williamsburg and feel so happy to be surrounded by such a great town. I can smell the fresh batch of bread just coming out of the oven from the bakery. As I get closer and closer to The Swan Tavern, the sun starts to rise up. I stop dead in my tracks admiring the beautiful sunrise. The dark orange sky gives me a warm feeling inside. My mom, my sister and I always got up early to look at the sunrise when I was younger. I miss her more and more everyday. I look at my watch and it says 6:30. I’m going to be late, I think to myself. I walk as fast as my legs can carry me. Soon I am right in front of The Swan Tavern. I swing the door open and see Candace putting the slaves to work. Jared, the owner, is transferring the tabs from the customers from the previous day into his account book. “Good morning, Jared,” I say. He quickly looks up from his book and stares at me. “Good morning, Prim. How are you this fine morning?” He asked, taking off his tiny round glasses. “I am very good, thank you,” I respond. I walk to the back and set my messenger bag down gently, then start my routine. 

A Working Milliner

Chapter 1:

I feel the soft, light blue silk slipping away in my hands. I hear the door open, and footsteps getting closer. I am a milliner in this fine town of Williamsburg. I work here with one of my greatest friends, makings the best clothing around. Each day, I hear the horses outside clicking away, telling me that today is a new day. I sew with my nimble fingers, making every last stitch perfect. The customers come in and out, asking for special orders. I just love the smile on those people’s faces, when they get their order, and hand me the money. I look forward each time to see those smiles, and make their day. Making an appearance is all about the style of clothing you wear. I make those styles work, and I do work quite a lot. I of course have a star customer, a servant. She comes into my store almost every week, asking new orders for her master. I get many servants doing errands for their master, but I also get middling class folk wanting to get in on the new shipments I have. The servant girl’s master always wants in on the new goodies I have in my store.

Once, I had this customer who was an upper middling class man retrieving something for his wife. He was tall and wore high socks with garters. I’ve had many loyal customers before, but he asks for twenty-five beautiful gowns! That day I was filled with happiness, but I know that I most likely will not get a customer like that again. But I did get a new shipment of silk fabric in today, I love the feel of that smooth material slipping through my fingers. It’s always a pleasure working with it, (in the end). Many fabrics are hard to work with, but always when I’m finished with my creation, I’m proud and I love the results! Bigger gowns and clothing items take a little longer then a simple tunic. Only because there’s a lot more to make with it. I remember when I was a small girl, wanting to work in a millinery. I was an apprentice to another milliner, doing simple things around her shop and learning as much as I could. I also learned arithmetic so I could deal with the money I make, give, and need. At the end of each day I would take out my recording books, and add on from that day’s progress. There’s much to do in the millinery, and it’s my passion to do all that’s needed.

Chapter 2:

I knew that today would come, I’ve been waiting for almost a full month. My hands ache from all the work and affort I put into this creation. My friend helped me as did I with her creation. But this was my project, my time to show who I am. Today is the day that it all stops, the pressure, the stress, the project. My nerves build up inside me, waiting for noon to come, anxiously waiting. I breathe deeply, sucking in as much air as I could. I’m an orderly person, so I had my schedule ready for the day. Please come, please, please come. I thought to myself, knowing they would come, but would they like it? Would my world crash and break down because of the terrible work I’ve down? I put the pressure on myself because on how huge this day is for me. I stare at the door, just waiting for the moment they come through. I walk over to the back room, stalking my product. I glare at it, searching for a hole, a mis-stitch, a rip or a stain! I stop, I run my hand over the beautiful embroidery on the bodice. Everything, looks perfect. I think to myself smiling wide, ear to ear.

Thump… The door! They’re here, I know they’re here. I race to the front of the store eager to see them. I can’t wait to see their faces when…it’s not them. It was just Comfort Wright, my working partner and friend. “Today is the day,” I told her, hoping she would get excited. “Oh, good luck,” she answered in a nice tone. Then she raced to the back like she needed to get something done. I waited too long for this day for these customers not to like this heartfelt beautiful garment I made. These customers are nice gentry class folk that I rarely get. They asked me to make them clothing for a gala that they have that is just a few days away. The are rude, and cocky, and I want to show them that I am not just a simple milliner, but hardworking respected person. They will like it, I will earn their approval, and I will be proud.

The Ticket That Changed My Life

I feel my long brown hair fall down my back and feel the tug of the two braids in my hair, I love waiting by the window for my twin sister Emily to come and talk with me. “Kate!” she yells, I hear her voice echo through the large house, and hear her heels against the hard floor. “I’ve been looking for you in the courtyard” said explained, She was holding something, what could it be? I see the dirty stamped envelope in her pale hands, I know what it is, and there’s two. The letters fall to the ground and we hug with excitement. The letter was not very neat and it was sealed not to well. I grab the letter that says, Kate Burkley. It was from my husband, he is a soldier and is away right now. Letters take weeks to even come, and when they do it makes the wait worth it. Emily and I go down stairs and make tea. The warmth of the cinnamon and the hot milk hits my face and fills the air with warmth. “Kate, we miss our husbands and can barely make a living. Let’s be honest we never worked a day in our lives. I think our best option is to go to the New World and find our husbands,” as the words came out of Emily’s mouth the tea started to taste worse and worse, I knew she was right. “Let’s go to the New World” I said. I can’t let go of our life and it will forever stay in my heart but what is there for me in England? The New World it is. The next morning I packed up all my things and kissed my life in England away. I walked across the grey road, “Emily my dear,” I yelled. I heard nothing. Only a big lavender hat with lace and pearls draped around it dropped from the high white ceilings, and it hit my head and pulled one of the braids out of my hair. “Em!” I started to get annoyed, we were going to miss the next boat. Within 15  minutes of Emily throwing her stuff in a bag, she was done.

Luckily we didn’t live too far from the boardwalk where the boat docks were. After walking for a little bit we reached the part where we got our tickets. As we waited and waited for the boat to come I started to get sad and started to miss my life in England and didn’t know if I was making the right decision. The man that was helping boarded the boat with passengers yelled “ready to board, ready to board.” We got in line and we were ready to get on the boat. One tear dripped down my cheek, it was the only one and the powder for my makeup started to run down into my corset. I gave the man my ticket and kissed England goodbye and Emily and I got on the boat and the adventure began there.