Slave Diary

Wednesday, January 5, 1763

Master Jameson is keeping me locked in this dreadful little room on the top floor of his mansion to make sure I do not run away. It is hot and dusty, cluttered with old clothing, toys and furniture. And all there is to sleep on is a soiled and tattered pallet made of pieces of clothe. I have never slept on the floor in my life! I slept in my own bed in a small cove near my parents, but then again my parents are gone and have been sold off. I have made friends with Master Jameson’s nine-year old daughter, Marie Ann, but I call her Daisy because of her golden head of hair. I have always called her that, and she has always called me Flora, which is nothing close to my actual name, Sarah. I don’t mind it at all because I have really taken a liking to her.

Daisy was forbidden to come visit me after her father found out we have become friends. He did not want his daughter associating with a slave girl, as I am one. And of course, Daisy ignored her father’s warnings, and I was glad for her to do so. I asked her “Am I really going to be sold”, and she replied “Hush, hush Flora, don’t worry everything is going to be fine, I’ll talk to my father and ask for you not to be sold”. I felt somewhat relieved but at the mind of my mind because I was so frightened that I could actually be sold into slavery. I could not imagine what that would be like. I am only a little girl and not ready for the conditions to come. I heard stories of slaves being beaten just because they looked at their master wrong or the mere fact they were a slave. My life is already difficult being a servant so being sold into slavery will be much I believe. I miss my parents and baby sister terribly, I cry myself to self every night wondering if they too were thinking about me and my whereabouts. I am not meant for this lifestyle. Most of my family has been sold into slavery as I have been. It’s not right for people to own on another but I guess Master Jameson sees otherwise.

Last night it was a horrible thunderstorm. The thunder seemed to strike just outside my window. It lit up the sky just like it was daytime outside. The lightening boomed and crackled through the night sky. I was so scared I hid my face under my cover. I always hated thunder. I remember when I was younger my mother would hold me in her arms during a storm and rock me till I fell asleep in her arms. Mama, I miss her so dearly. She always smelled of lavender and wore her hair in a blue polka-dotted handkerchief. A dainty but strong willed woman she was. Papa, I missed him too dearly as he used to pick flowers for me and pick me up in his arms. I would do anything to see my family again-anything. When I was taken from my family my mother gave me a diary, which I am writing in now. The diary was leather-bound, not good leather but decent with the letter “S” inscribed on it. She told me to write down anything and everything when I felt lonely. My diary was wrapped in my mother’s most cherished possession- a quilt handed down from her mother’s mother to her mother and then down to her. Whenever I am deeply troubled, I wrap myself in my mother’s quilt. I bury my face in the fold and try to smell her image into my head. It comforts me. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what my mother looked like- my memory was fading fast. Are my eyes almond-shaped like hers? Are my wide nose and high cheekbones those of my father? I ask myself these questions over and over again. I get great comfort from writing since I feel a connection in these pages to my family. How I long to see them again someday.

I rose early this morning to begin my daily chores. The rooster was crowing in the highest pitch I’ve ever heard. The Birds were signing their sweet melodious songs, the chickens were peaking around aimlessly and the cows were grazing lazily in the pastures. My first duty was to collect the eggs from the barn so I could use them in the family’s breakfast. I hated this job because every time I tried to reach in the hens house to retrieve the eggs, I would be pecked angrily. I mean I could understand that the mama hen did not want me to be taking what was hers, as I bet my parents felt when Master Jameson took me from them. I sympathized with mama hen. Next I had had to go feed the pigs, which is not the most glorious job I’ve ever done. Their meal consists of random leftovers from the kitchen mixed in with corn and other random things. I guess the pigs like it because they seem to eat it on up before I even leave the pen. Another chore I must tend to is milking the cows. Milking cows may seem easy at first but believe you it’s not. The first time I did it, it took me almost 3 hours to get a bucket of milk.Now I must admit I have gotten pretty good at this task and can do it within a half an hour. After that I must prepare the breakfast. I then had to do my duties around the house, which I didn’t mind one bit since I was inside away from the draining southern heat. The mansion was so big and decorated oh so nicely. Elaborate crystal chandeliers came down from the vaulted ceilings. Silk curtains hung from the windows while the drapes flowed ever so naturally. The floors were mahogany and waxed so well that they glistened. The furniture was ever more ornate and especially shipped over from France. I would sometimes drift off into a daydream and imagine myself roaming the halls in fancy dresses while dancing and twirling. But soon snapped out of it when I realized I was just a slave girl and would never own such things. Cleaning was a task of its own and to get through it quickly I pretended that I was in a race—and the golden prize would be my freedom. Each day I was there I would try to beat my personal best in attempts of winning that long awaited prize. This keeps me going because I know one day Ill be free and reunited with my family.

I’m not too sure of what will happen to me. The slave appraisers came today. Master Jameson brought me to the great room and stood me beside the windows, where the light could hit my face. I felt like an object, not a person. Daisy looked on, showing no emotion in her face, which was odd to me since I thought she cared about my well being as a slave. I would not look at her or I would cry. I was too stunned to move. One of the men asked about my work ethic and Master replied “she’s good in the house, but won’t last in the fields”. The appraisers studied and scrutinized every aspect of me- from head to toe and then finally replied “we’ll take her, have her ready to leave in the morning”. I have never been so humiliated in all my life. All I can do is lie on my pallet and beg for sleep to come and carry me away.

Self Evaluation

The type of pre-writing technique I used was an outline. The reason why I used a outline was to guide me through my paper and allow it to flow smoothly. An outline allowed me to plan my the body of my paper out without going into detail and was the blueprint of my paper. It also allowed me to write more easily and quicker since I was already aware of what I was going to talk about.

I enjoyed getting the chance the chance to use my imagination and creative writing skills because in most cases do not get the writing pieces I do not get use them. It is easier and more enjoyable to write when there are no boundaries on topic and allows a person to just let go and write what comes from their imagination.

It was not a challenge when writing this paper. All I had to do was to sit down and write what came to mind from my imagination. I really didn’t have to put much thought to what I was writing since it just flowed from my mind.

My strengths when writing would be the ability to express emotion in my writings. It is easy for me to convey to others what a character is feeling. I would say my weakness would be being able to stay on a given direction while writing a piece and not to drift off topic.

I would say I am happy with the final outcome of my papers. This paper allowed me to choose a topic that I wanted and run with it. I like not having a set topic to talk about since it is less stressful when writing. If I were to critique myself on the paper I would say that it was very descriptive and allowed the reader to feel and take a walk in the person’s shoes as if they were right there with them. I believe I achieved in being able to convey to readers main aspects of the characters life through detailing accounts and using expressive language. Over all I feel as though the paper was a success.