The chilling night air swirled around James Henry as he stumbled blindly over the treacherous forest floor. Just above the treetops, the full moon hung low in the sky, swathed in a shawl of thick clouds. James hurried breathlessly through the dense undergrowth, ignoring the brambles that cruelly cut and scratched his skin. Tree branches snagged at him, like claws of demons, and spooky noises all around him seemed to be sounds of his pursuers. A sudden hooting of an owl sent him sprawling across a fallen tree trunk in fright and he rose in a panic, his sweating face a mask of terror. He lurched forward into the bushes once more and continued his desperate flight. His thoughts raced back to that fateful Wednesday afternoon. The day had been a blistering heat bath and the air was so thick you could barely breathe. While working in the fields, he had fainted from exhaustion. The overseer, who had a horrible temper, was already in a foul mood from the scorching weather. He threw himself upon James in a fury, and whipped him frenziedly until his back was thick with blood. James decided that night he would run away. He had had enough. Gathering his small bundle of pitiful belongings, he stole off just as dusk fell. At first all went well. By night, he traced his way using the North Star as his guide. By day he hid and slept. But then the nights turned cloudy, blocking the stars, and he lost his way. Then, this night, a group of slave-catchers had stumbled upon him while he was resting, and he just barely got away. But they were hot on his trail and it was only a matter of hours before they caught up with him. His thoughts raced back to that fateful Wednesday afternoon Suddenly, he stopped, chest heaving from exertion, heart pounding. He heard it. The sound of hoofbeats echoed in the distance, like drums heralding an execution. He paused an instant, stricken with fear, then broke into a run, his small bundle of possessions slapping against his back with every step. James did not have any memories of his father or mother. When he was just a little boy, the Wicomico plantation he was born on went broke, and he was sold off to Talbot County. He recalled having a brother, but hadn’t seen him since he was sold off. He was now, as best as he could calculate, some eighteen years of age, and until a few days ago had lived at the plantation of Mr. Stuart Henry. Mr. Henry’s plantation was enormous, and tobacco was the staple crop grown there. The field hands had to do backbreaking work from dawn to dusk each day, watering the precious tobacco leaves, tending to them, and worst of all, picking the horrid tobacco worms from off the undersides of the leaves. James had experienced this horror every day for as long as he could remember: the scorching sun pounding on his back, the lash of the overseer’s whip, and the constant humiliation of being a slave. He had also hated it for as long as he had known it, and he had always promised himself that one day he would get out; one day he would escape!!! Now here he was, running through the woods driven by sheer panic, branches stinging him as they slapped at his face. Suddenly, he saw the faint glow of a light about fifty feet ahead. He slowed down and approached it cautiously. He emerged at the edge of a clearing, and saw a house, with a lantern swinging on the gate. Swinging!!! He had just registered this when strong arms grabbed him from behind and he found himself looking into the face of a bearded, heavyset man. Paralyzed with terror, he opened his mouth, but then the man chuckled and said, “Heh heh, ain’t safe for someone like you to be out here this late!” They walked up to the house and the man ushered him in quickly. “Sarah!” he whispered hoarsely into the gloom, “I’ve got someone here who needs help.” Seconds later, a smiling, plump woman appeared and hurried James down the hall to a room on the right, while her husband left and went upstairs. “You’ll be safe in here,” she whispered, picking up a rug and opening a trap door. James looked down and saw that below the paneled floor there was a pit, about fifteen feet deep. He looked back at the woman and began, “I can’t tell you how much . . .” But she interrupted him, “Shhh, no time for this. Get in!” He lowered himself down, and just as the trap door closed, there was a knock on the door. James huddled in the darkness listening intently. After a short pause, he heard a shuffle of feet, and the sound of a door opening. “Yes, may I help you?” said the woman. “Yes ma’am,” a deep raspy voice replied, “we’re looking for a runaway. Would you mind us having a little look?” “Oh no, there’s no problem,” said the woman. More shuffling of feet sounded, accompanied by the sharp click-clack of boots on the wood floor. James heard them walk down the hall, pausing every so often as the man looked in a room. “. . . with the new Fugitive Slave Law, business is really good. I can even get away with returning slaves without a trial . . .” The man was nearing the room in which James was hidden. Suddenly, the man’s voice trailed off and the footsteps halted right outside the room. “Is anything the matter?” James heard the woman ask. “Oh, nothing . . . nothing,” mumbled the man. James’s palms began to sweat as he heard them enter the room and he shivered, despite the stuffiness of the pit. He crouched there for several terrible seconds. Without warning, the rug was swept off the floor. He heard
Historical
A Shaken Garden
Glynis Hyatt walked blindly down the street. Fragments of shrapnel crunched under her shoes. Glass mixed, making mosaics with the rubble on the ground. The smell of smoke littered the air, thick and foul-smelling. The reality of war had hit at full blast, and many people were still in shock. The surprise bombings had caused so much trauma and heartbreak. Glynis kept walking down the street and around the corner. In plain view was the hospital and Glynis quickened her pace. It had all happened so fast. It was 7:30 AM, and she was getting ready to go to her shift as a telephone operator. She had just started working this summer after graduating from high school. She quickly put on a starched dress, and sat down to breakfast. She looked out her window and saw a clear blue sky. It’s going to be a wonderful day, she thought. Soon she heard planes, which she pushed aside since the air station was under construction. Suddenly, Glynis heard loud explosions all around her. Screams seemed to arise from nowhere, and rubble flew everywhere. The windows bent inward and shattered, shooting glass all over. She crawled under the table to avoid being hurt. Glynis stared at the swirling chaos around her. The pungent smell of gas from the bombs filled her nostrils. The screams continued and became more violent among the deathly roar. Then it all seemed to stop; the world became silent. Glynis crawled out from under the table and stood up shakily. She walked silently through the glass on her wood floor. Her door was off its hinges and lying in splinters on the floor. Glynis walked straight out of the house and onto the once-beautiful lawn. The little town was almost unrecognizable, with shrapnel and objects that had not been tied securely to the ground. Roof tiles and aluminum siding from all over the neighborhood littered the streets and yard. Glynis Hyatt walked over to the area where the fence that had separated her garden from others had stood and looked at her precious Eden. Her beautiful gardens of lush gorgeous plants, gone. All her ravishing ginger plants, with their huddled petals, had withered and left the petals ripped and twisted. Her vividly colored gladiolus had lost all their color and they seemed to look blankly at her from their position on the dark ground. The ti plant’s bright red petals had been ripped, and were strewn amongst the other flowers as if they were bleeding. She stood and looked at what was left of her flowers and then gazed toward her neighbor’s house. Kenny Eldrich had lived on Oahu for 45 years and knew everything in Hawaiian history. Standing on his back porch, he stood gazing out at the destroyed houses. One thing that made Kenny different from other Polynesians was that he did not have the traditional dark hair and eyes. His hair was blond and he had green eyes. Ever since Glynis had emigrated to Hawaii with her older brother, Kenny was there for her, like the father she left back in Japan. Standing on his back porch, he seemed so alone and devastated to see his little town torn apart. It seemed to have torn him apart as well. Glynis broke the silence. “What happened?” Kenny spoke in a faraway voice, “They finally got us, we’ve been bombed.” Glynis’s world seemed to fall apart. Piece by piece her world was shattering. “Where did they bomb us?” she asked tearfully. “The dock. Oklahoma, Raleigh, the heart of our military.” Kenny spoke in a faraway voice, “They finally got us, we’ve been bombed” Glynis felt as if she had been slapped. “The dock” rang in her ears, painful and loud. Tolby, her brother. Tolby working on the Oklahoma. The Oklahoma’s bombed, gone. Glynis screamed painfully and started running in the direction of the dock. Kenny, still standing on the porch, watched her run, silent tears streaming down his face. Glynis cried as she ran, her feet pounding hard against thrown pieces of wood. Her heart seemed to beat louder until she heard it in her ears. Out of breath from all her screaming and crying, she collapsed on the street. Tears mixed with sweat and her nose was running. Glynis felt ready to throw up, not only from exhaustion but from worrying for her brother as well. In her mind, she kept seeing Tolby’s body being tossed among the waves, his beautiful hazel eyes open toward the sky, never to find rest among the eternally rolling waves. Although Glynis’s mind kept telling her Tolby was dead, something in her heart told her she had to be wrong. She scrambled up to her feet, and instead of feeling distraught she was fresh with determination: she had to find her brother. As she got closer to the dock, the destruction became more obvious. Along the roadside, a car had stopped. Both the car and the men inside were destroyed. In the front was an American shipyard worker. It was clear to see that he was dead. The driver’s head was pressed against the top of the steering wheel. His dark hair was bloodily plastered to his forehead. The passengers seemed dipped in red and were staring upward. The reason for his death was unmistakable: his car had been peppered by shrapnel, and was still smoking. She continued running, trying not to be disrespectful to the dead by staring. At last, Glynis arrived at what was left of the dock. The smoke dyed the air a deep gray and it was difficult to see through the billowing pillars. Even though much of her vision was impaired, the outline of the capsized Oklahoma was distinct, as well as other ships. Glynis ran wildly around the dock, hoping to see anyone that resembled her brother, but she saw no one, only the bodies that rolled on the waves. Glynis almost broke down again, but something told her to pull together and
Mrs. Will Baker
Jessie sat down heavily on the bench and sighed. The heat was getting to her again, and her dress clung to her body. Hopefully, the tree would provide some cool shade. Although in South Carolina, it seemed that nothing was cold. The baby gave a little kick, and Jessie smiled. Lately, though, even smiling got to be tiring. While she found good reasons to, she also had to show too many fake and forced smiles, for when Will needed them. Will. She had never imagined that their lives would be like this, or that Will could get so sick only a year after they got married. He was only twenty-three! Consumption had almost made him a different person. But he tried. When the doctor had told them to go to South Carolina, they had thought that everything would be better quickly, and it would be like a vacation. Now, every day showed him getting either better or worse, and every small step was a blessing. Going hunting. Getting out. Going to town. When they went out, it was almost like they were sixteen again . . . * * * Jessie picked up the letter and unfolded it. There, in Will’s careful, even handwriting was the message: Saturday, June 15, 1896 Jessie: Would you like to have my company to Walter’s tonight. Will A huge grin spread across her face, and she twirled around in circles. He was so charming and courteous. Always obeying the traditions that she often laughed at. He knew that she would go with him! He didn’t even write it as a question. What a different person he was when they were alone. But still the same, too. Jessie ran upstairs to tell her mother where she was going. * * * Jessie got up and shook out her skirts. She walked slowly back to the hotel, where Will was resting. The shade hadn’t helped the heat too much, and tendrils of hair escaped her bun to stick out wildly. Even in the heat and humidity of the day, though, birds were singing. Jessie stopped to pick a flower and winced as she tried to bend over. As she kept walking, she allowed herself to close her eyes and walk in a dreamland. Someone calling her name snapped her out of her reverie. “Jessie! Jessie!” Her mother-in-law, a slightly overweight and friendly figure, was walking quickly toward her. “We were wondering where you were. I thought that you might have gotten heat exhaustion. We have to take care of you now!” She laughed a good-natured laugh. “Come along, it’s time for luncheon. I was thinking that we could go into town afterwards and . . .” Jessie listened amiably as Mrs. Baker rambled on, saying something when it seemed necessary Soon, they had arrived at the hotel, where Will and his father were already sitting at the table. Jessie went over to Will and kissed him on the cheek before her customary “How do you feel?” Jessie listened amiably as Mrs. Baker rambled on As usual, the answer was “Just fine, now that you’re here,” accompanied by a grin. Jessie smiled at him, and the ladies sat down for their meal. Throughout the luncheon, Jessie prodded Will to eat his food—the healthy part—and tried not to let him exhaust himself by talking. Afterwards, Mr. Baker suggested a “quick walk to refresh themselves.” Trying not to lean on his wife’s arm, Will got up and started to follow his parents. Jessie walked with him, letting him rest his thin, undernourished body on her arm, and not mentioning it. Only twenty pounds separated their weights now, when it used to be sixty. After about ten minutes, Jessie saw Will beginning to tire, and without saying anything, turned around to head back. Without seeming to notice them, Mr. and Mrs. Baker turned back at the same time, and came up behind them. “Lovely weather, isn’t it?” Mr. Baker remarked. “The same as it’s been the whole time we’ve been here,” was Will’s reply, soft enough so that only Jessie could hear him. She smiled an amused smile at him, and her father-in-law kept talking. “It’s perfect weather for hunting. What do you say, Will? Want to go tomorrow? We could get some good meat for supper.” He put a lot of effort into these few words, really wanting to convince his son into going. “Of course, Father. I’d love to.” Will put just as much effort into this short statement, but that was because he was almost wheezing. Casting a worried look at her mother-in-law, Jessie motioned them to go ahead. Slowly, she and Will walked back, trying to enjoy the time outdoors. Breathing in the fresh air, Will remarked, “In some odd way, this reminds me of the sleighing party we had. You remember, by Miss Pearl’s house?” Of course she remembered. * * * There were fifteen of them there, on a Saturday evening. Everyone was bundled up for warmth, and each girl knew which boy she wanted to sit next to. Jessie and her closest friend, Sarah, huddled together with the other girls, laughing and getting ready to go. Will, of course, was there, and she could see the twinkle in his green eyes as he came over, even though he was as bundled up as the rest of them. “Come on!” he said as he grabbed her hand. “We’re first.” Giggling, Jessie separated from the clump of girls, and gazed up at Will. “Scared?” he asked as he helped her in. Jessie laughed and sat up straight. “Never!” Behind her, John was helping Sarah in the sleigh, and soon they were all in. “Ready?” John called to the girls. A chorus of assents came from the back. “Off we go!” and then they were riding through the cold night, laughing. Jessie sat close to Will, and they yelled and sang along with everyone else. They raced against the snowflakes and watched the path
