The Mirrored Staircase - Episode 9

Novella Thursdays

Right away, as if those behind the glass were indeed eager to tell their story after over a century and a half of waiting, the colors in Jake’s irises began to sharpen from their normal bright blue to a more icy cold hue, with sleek ice then transforming to reflective glass, the multitude of colors turning into the first image as Lucas stared with as much concentration as he had ever used.

As the vision of the inhumane punishment falls back, the one being whipped is shown to be the woman who looks like Isha, topless and cowered down at the base of a tree, every inch of her bare skin covered in deep red slashes as a white hand wields the long weapon of dominance.

Relentless in its lashing, it’s like Satan’s tongue, carving out one agonizing cry after another, the image under the whipping tree staying the same while the woman transforms into the old man, the old man into a teenager, and so on as a series of victims each endure under the hands of different members of the Matheson family.

Young and old, male and female, all taking their turns feeling the power of ownership over another human being, the ground beneath those they torture so blood-stained that one can only imagine that hell itself is down there in those roots.

- As the sun sets the woman who looks like Isha is the last to head out of the surrounding cotton fields and back towards the main house, her last bucket of cotton balanced with one hand over her head.

Coming down the opposite end of the path, one of her masters has already took to their evening drinking, as he stumbles here and there with bottle in hand.

Veering to the far right she tries to stay clear of him as he approaches, but those intoxicated eyes full of lust have already locked in on her, taking in the curves of her hips and the roundness of her bosom.

He lunges for her, but as she sidesteps he misses.

He tries again, and this time his clumsiness causes him to drop his bottle. They both watch as the hooch spills out, then look to each other, he in anger, she in fear.

She turns to run, but anger has sobered him up enough to give him the coordination needed to reach out for a fist full of hair, her head snapping back and returning just in time for a strike across the face.

This sends the poor woman down to the ground, her master’s weight falling atop her. She fights to refill her lungs with air, her blouse and dress being ripped open in the process.

She tries to cry out, but only gets off a few breaths full before the white man stuffs her mouth with the scattered cotton she had been holding. His hand clenches down to ensure she doesn’t spit it out, leaving her no choice but to bite down on the soft white as he drives up hard into her.

- With a body that’s ready to give birth at any time now, Isha’s great great-grandmother is shown no mercy in her late stage of pregnancy, waddling from one cotton plant to another until she falls over in labor.

- A little girl whose skin is like that of creamed coffee sits out on the porch to the main house, watching as her half kin files past her, the male slaves forking off in one direction to tend glass while the females and children head in the opposite direction towards the way leading to the surrounding cotton fields.

A white hand comes down to the three-year-old’s level and hands her a piece of candy. As a half-breed she’s allowed to play free around the house, her mother now working inside as a house servant.

The little girl already displays a manner of being better than her more darker side, sticking her tongue out between chews of her honey treat as the other slave children look enviously on their way to a full day’s work.

- Now five, the little girl wears a bright yellow dress and has her hair tied up in a bun, the manner of better-than-thou even deeper, with a downright sinister look to go along with it.

Lucas knows that look.

It’s Aunt Mama.