I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU IN YOUR SLEEP, BUT I DIDN'T

(Story #1)

Even in a world of Horrorwalker horror, 

People who survive the fearsome terror will record that dread for reasons all their own. 

The title of this diary might not instill revulsion in you as you contemplate reading the words on its pages, 

but, 

Beware these tales from... 

The Diary Of Horrors!

RLJ

I COULD HAVE KILLED YOU IN YOUR SLEEP, BUT I DIDN'T

Entry Date: 

May 19, 1827

(Charleston, South Carolina)

Tonight, during the midnight hour, I silently snuck out of my bed chamber. The kitchen of Master Walter’s kitchen is right down the hall, so I walked to it on my tiptoes, tipping right by the Master’s bedroom, him snoring loudly and ugly, right over to the drawer with the knives in it. 

I took out the very sharp meat cleaver.

Holding the scrubbed clean meat cleaver in my right hand, I silently glided into the partially opened door to the Master Walter’s bedroom. I then stood over the two sleeping figures in the bed. He was lying on his back in a dead sleep, just snoring away. His wife was sleeping with her back turned away from both of us, but it was obvious that she was in deep sleep, too. Actually, how could she hear me over her husband’s bear like sounds?

And so, there they are... sleeping like two content dogs. As I stood there staring at them, bone slicing sharp cleaver in my hand, it held waist high, I boiled inside with my anger as I wondered if his wife really knows of any, or all of the times, that her husband has sneaked into my bed and forced himself into me at least two nights a weeks since they first bought me like a side of cow at the market 8 years ago... him taking me by brute force if I ever say no... telling me that he will cut out my tongue if I ever tell his wife!

As always, the catgut loop and the bone contraption my mother taught me to make and use inside of myself when the time comes that I will be taken by force against my will has worked. So far, no baby has been made. I fear he will murder me if I ever do become full of child. Anyway...

I wonder if she really knows what an evil man her husband is! And if she knows, will she eventually murder me in my sleep!

“I paid good money for you, Nigger!” He tells me when he is mad at me. “You will make my beds, you will cook my food, you will take care of the house cleaning... and I will fuck you whenever I want you!” And... he does!

I stand there with the meat cleaver in my right hand. I imagine what it would be like to hack away at both of these people who, to their core, believe that they own me. In my mind, I remind myself that I could have killed you in your sleep many times over by now, but I have not. As usual, I will turn around and take the meat cleaver back into the kitchen. Then I will go back into my room, write these words down into my secret diary of extra pieces of paper I have sneaked, hide my diary under the floorboard under the bed, and then cry myself to sleep as I remember your hot stale cigar breath huffing into my nose and on my face and on my sweaty breasts as you try to hurt me with each hateful thrust inside of me.

Tomorrow, I will lead my life as a captive human in this land I still do not know. And as I learn more every day, and as I continue to hone my writing and my reading skills, I am sure I will eventually become confidant enough to use the meat cleaver to end my suffering and make you pay for your white mastery.

Until the next tomorrow...

Goodnight diary.

LLJ