Blood Moon War

I kept my platted hair pulled back and tied up under a dark red, almost maroon, head scarf. There was not one moment of the day or night that I did not dream of escaping Hell. To outsiders, Hellena Plantation cast an illusion of southern charm and gentility. After all, it was named for the most beautiful belle that once lived in the area. In reality “Hell” was a dark place, filled with blasphemous obscenities, too dirty to air in public. There were three that stalked the grounds at Hell, and they were especially grotesque. Their cold eyes pierced even the toughest of souls. They stalked us and were known to cling to the shadows, always waiting for a chance to catch one of us unawares. The fanciest clothes, nor the sweetest perfume, could mask their stench. The behemoth was the largest and oldest. He was covered in brown hair with a big forehead that protruded out so much, that his eyes seemed like little, dull, black stones. There was no luster, no kindness, no truth in them. His friends called him James. We were to always address him as, Mr. James. His son Mr. Todd, was tall and gangly, with long oversized arms and hands. He enjoyed watching his father punish us. His nefarious grinning and constant laughing made him the Hyena, ever dangerous and utterly annoying. The strongest of them, the one that had the most, power typically stayed hidden from us in the Big House. Master was not particularly big, nor smart, but he made up for it with his callousness and cruelty. His big blue eyes warned us of his impending outbursts of anger. He was the Devil, himself. He made the men folk pay dearly, when he was especially cross. The Devil would send them to be whipped within an inch of their lives at the big, oak tree, or he would have Mr. James take them to the old, shed at the edge of the woods. There the Behemoth would do unspeakable things to them.

It became quite clear that no matter how much I kept my head down, or how hard I worked in the fields, sooner or later, one of the three would notice me. For a few months everything seemed to be normal in Hell. We had all been accustomed to hearing screams and witnessing a whipping here or there. Most of us avoided being seen by the monsters. I prided myself on being invisible. “That is the best way to stay, if you want to be alive,” Mama Rose said daily. The relative peace and quiet came to a halt. To my chagrin, the sneakiest monster of the three, Todd, had been watching me. I did not realize it at first. One morning, while stuffing my burlap sack with cotton, and day dreaming about being anywhere but here, I caught him staring at me. He was a few feet away. “Morning, Mr. Todd.” I kept my eyes cast down and tried to sound happy, but not too happy. He got down off his coal, black horse and walked over, pretending to inspect my bag. “You’s a hard worker, gal. That is for sure.” The Hyena smiled. “Thank you sir.” He stood close to me and then took in a deep breadth. I quickly moved forward. “You scared of me or something?” Mr. Todd said in a low voice. “No. Mr. Todd. Just trying to get as much as I can in the bag.” “Good. There ain’t no need of you being scared of me. I’ll be good to you, if you let me.” He responded louder. I kept my back turned. Anyone with some sense knew what he wanted, but he wouldn’t going to get it from me, at least not without a fight. That night, while resting in my shotgun shack, something told me to look out the front door. Afar off in the distance stood a figure. His face was a bit blurry, but it was Mr. Todd. He crept closer and closer. After looking around frantically, I pulled three stones from the hearth and placed them in front of the door. The banging started. “Boom. Boom. BOOM.” This went on almost every night.

At sunrise and at dusk, I repeatedly prayed for strength, for wisdom, for patience, for protection, not just for myself but for all of us enslaved at Hell. After a while, the hyena’s visits grew less frequent. And then HE appeared.

Word came down from the Big House that Master wanted the women to pick blackberries and bring them to Mama Rose, who was over all the cooking. She oversaw regular meals and food for any social gatherings. Who knew the Devil had a sweet tooth. Rose armed us with wooden bowls. She wanted the berries to remain whole and plump. I reached up and down, selecting only the darkest, juiciest blackberries to place in the bowl. His bare reddish, brown feet stuck out from amongst the bushes. As he crouched down, looking at me through the bushes, I doubled round, only to find he was no longer there. Where had he gone? I too, began to crouch down to see if he had crawled through the bushes another way, and clumsily stumbled over. My face was inches away from his feet, this time. The stranger was about 6 feet tall and muscular. His long black hair framed his bronzed, chiseled face. His eyes were kind but fierce. The stranger was mesmerizing. Who was he? Where did he come from?

“Re.” I said pointing to myself. “Waya.” He responded. “Where did you come from? Why haven’t we seen you, before.” It was not my intent to bombard him with so many questions, but seeing a stranger in the bushes was odd, even for Hell. Waya told me he usually stayed hidden in the forest, but he heard me calling for protection. How could he know my prayers? They were between me and God. My supplications were never spoken out loud to anyone. He told me, it would be okay, now.

Waya told me to meet him in the woods, where the moonlight was brightest. He said he would show me wondrous things, and he promised no harm would befall me. This seemed like a magic bean wrapped inside of a fantasy, but I agreed. Before trapesing off into the woods, my cautious spirit begged me to let at least one person know of my rendezvous with my mysterious new friend. Mama Rose seemed to be the wisest choice. She knew about all types of things that occurred in plain sight, and also understood what lurked in the unknown realms of this world. “He ain’t no normal man, child. You ought to be careful.” Rose shook her head. There was no need to worry. I would not let some stranger fool me into doing anything unsavory.

Determination grabbed me and held on tight. The prospect of escape, even for a moment, was too enticing. As usual, Mama Rose was right. Waya was not like other men.

When the full moon was the highest in the sky, I tipped out of the shack hid behind trees, and lurked in the bushes, before darting into the thick woods. There was no real reason to run, as if being chased by a pack of hounds. Every part of me was ready to escape. It must have took at least 10 minutes to get to the spot Waya spoke of. At first, I gazed upward and stared directly at the moon. The light stretched and bent. It danced on my feet, legs, and arms, until finally resting on my face. The sparkle was almost blinding. But a few steps away, I saw something that was sorely out of place. Cords of brown, twisted vines hung down and were somehow attached to a shiny, green seat. The moon beckoned me over to the swing. Waya watched for a moment and then stepped out of the shadows. I sat on the swing and he pushed me. “Why did you come here?” He said in a soft voice. After a long pause, I responded. “How could I refuse your invitation?” This made him smile. A tiny sparkle of white reflected in his dark eyes. The wind began to howl and cause the trees to sway. A glistening black bird with a red dot on its neck swooped down and landed in the poplar tree next to us. It turned its head and watched Waya and me very intently. “You can’t stay, Re. It's not safe.” He said as he looked up. Did he not know where I lived? It wasn’t safe anywhere. He picked me up and sat me down out of the swing, which was strangely higher than I remembered. He held my hand. “I’ll walk with you until we get to the edge of the woods.” Waya said reassuringly. It was clear that something was amiss. But I decided not to question him. We reached the edge in a manner of seconds. “When you get back to the cabin, don’t open the door for anyone.” Waya held my hand a little tighter. “I will not open the door for anyone.” I promised. My heart started to beat frantically, now. Maybe it was the trek through the woods and back to the cabin, or possibly the idea that something or someone was coming. Was the Hyena stalking me, again? That night I held onto the lumpy mess of a pillow and listened for every single twig that snapped. To my relief, no one came pounding at my door.

“You’re a fool, brother. It is forbidden and you know it.” The black bird chided. “I have not broken any laws.” Waya asserted. “Why must you consort with this human, when there are plenty of females amongst our own people? Besides, does she even know what you are?” The black bird fluttered down and transformed into a woman with the longest raven hair. One could scarcely tell where her hair ended and her midnight black robe began. Black Bird’s feet had sharp talons and her hands were quite small. “We were here much longer than they were. It is forbidden to interact with humans, unless absolutely necessary. Their kind brings us nothing but misery.” Black Bird was waiting for Waya to disagree. But Waya just looked through her. We were their allies and even their protectors at one time, he thought to himself. He had been taught the old ways and the stories of origin. The elders put forth laws that would forever separate forest people and humans. They maintained the humans had started the Great Wars and ultimately caused the Great Schism of 1200. He thought of Re. Surely not every human was blood thirsty and greedy for power and control. Re was warm and seemed undefiled by the world of men. Waya surmised. He had watched her from the safety of his forest home. She was different and was definitely worth protecting. He was not the only one watching Re.