Flowers, Blossom!

by Monsieur Bleu

Lucky Slaves

Mah sista said that ah ought be grateful fer our situation. Lord knows, she said, where we coulda ended up. Not like our situation is worth hootin bout or even half enjoyable, but buckin is buckin an ah can’t say too much bout it. Lord no.

Ah guess all considerin, with dealing with mistress and the professor, it’s a challenge to imagine better folks to have above one’s self.

Bein a dirt pony’s hard nough, much less where we is. Ah heard that up towards Fillydelphia and Manehattan they at least give em the courtesy of agent-cy, or whateva.

Mercy, mercy, lord it’s hot out. Stuck hitched up to this here wagon fer Faust knows how long, least it ain’t too tirin, just monotonous—back an forth, back an forth—it’s nough to drive ya mad.

Well, at least it leaves me time fer thinkin. Ma sista said how much of a privilege one’s own mind is—like a castle. So ah guess ah can consida mahself lucky on two counts.

When ah’m a bit bigga, ah guess that ah’ll actually start doing real bucking, not just totin round the full barrels. Sista said it’s lucky that we ended up on a farm with trees to buck. Pecans, peaches, an the like. Even a few apple trees by the slave shacks—not fancy nough fer sellin but good nough fer us. Betta than cotton, she said, no sweating coverless under the sun, bloodyin our hooves.

So lucky—then—on three counts.

So now, ah don’t know. Ah can’t pretend ta. If ah just behave maself, ah’ll do alright. But fer now, just pull this damn cart… not too long til supper.

~*~

Light trickled, delicately, through the leaves, majestic oaks lining our way. The smells of summer whisked by, perfumes of Dixie.

Hail to thee, oh princes of the Carolinas!

I come back into myself, two stout earth ponies, Mac and Tobe, continue to guide our carriage up to the house.

It has been a long time, or at least it feels it. I have taken too long to heed philosophers and neglected my duties elsewhere. Lost would I be without Rainbow. A department, fine, but the affairs of this house are beyond me. I would far rather tolerate the company junior lectures that deal with our ponies here. Wanting for a sweated brow—this whole idea is rather a joke. But if the Grecians could, then I suppose we can. Necessary after all, not like my scholar’s pittance could keep us afloat.

Mac and Tobe detach themselves from our carriage, bow, and make their way.

"Well, welcome home," she kissed me.
"Gladly."
We ascended our porch.
"Lovely afternoon Miss Dash, Professor."
"Milly," I said, hugging the round, aging earthgro mare.
"How’s been the school?"
"Good, I’ll tell you about it later. I smell stew, dinner ready?"
"Yes ma’am, supper’s just finishin up."

I grinned, solace in calm, what I am use to. I have achieved my apex, now what. How much more can I press on. I will make myself happy; I am still young enough to learn, but now I set my terms. I do not like to think of them as my things, legal or not, but still—they are happy, or at least I try to make them as such. Surely I have failed on more than one account, but what now for a soul found and a soul lost.

"Masta Dash."
"Yes?"
"Rarity and Sweetie is gonna be comin through.
"I ain’t got an issue with it, for sake, how much you bettin on—"
"Dear, maybe not now."
"Well certainly for good conversation, Twi."
I smiled, "fine, for conversation."

~*~

Equestrian virtue—hold fast on the wandering seas. Onto itself, firm, strong.
Oh thee, flagrant upon winds and indebted to the Western sky.
Come up, phoenix, back to us now, those hopes and—
Ashes, grey, charred wood and twisted steel.
All in a mind’s eye.

Mah eyes open, kinda quiet. Sista ain’t up yet, nea’er is the sun. Still too early t’be awake.

The biggest fear ah eva had was that I’d lose’m. Faust in heaven what ah’d do if ah did. Ah pissed maself on the auction block as we was bein bartered fer. Ah neva prayed so hard.

Pullin the cart don’t do ya no good durin apple season, we ain’t gonna use the cart—mastas don’t need it—it’s fer us. Help Granny with the pealin and bakin, you can do the buckin when ye’r old nough.

Fall’s always such hard work, but ah love it. The mastas’ crop is finished up by the first of October, so we have a few weeks to tend t’our own provisions. Them apple trees is ours—we keep um, so we get to enjoy em.

Slicin up pie—ah pray that this can last forever. Faust, if there is a heaven, let it be like this, warm fire, mah family, food, and even some good cider. If mastas deserve anything it’s a seat at that table. Lord knows! When all is said’n done they may be.

"Applebloom! Hey, time t’get up."
Ah opened mah drowsy eyes. "Alright," ah stretched, yawned.
Granny had already started on breakfast, some toast’n dandelions.

The crackle of butter has always made me happy. Ah could toil my whole life away, but for the smell of good cookin, umm, almost makes it worth it.

~*~

Oh, grateful for what, your “masta” not whipping you, not splitting up your family.

Circumstances is what they is, ah can only make the best of em. What you want? Hmm! Sowing seeds of malicious—

No! you are too much of a fool!

No, don’t you be goin around callin me that, no sir. Ah ain’t no fool, ah need te support mah family, ah had no say in this life, so ah make the best of it!

Best of—

You do not control me, or my dreams.

Oh, but your “mastas” do?

Nough a you! We are all constrained by—

Life, circumstance…

Love.

Author's Note:

Comments and critiques are welcome.

Comments

[Dusty Sage]

I think this will work, provided it doesn't hew too closely to either of the two traditional standard-bearers in this realm, Uncle Tom's Cabin or Gone with the Wind, either of which will cause wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Come to think of it, just mentioning the Peculiar Institution in any context whatsoever might set some readers off. Be prepared for that.

[xd77]

That's the Oak Alley Plantation in your picture, it's in Vacherie, LA.

[Monsieur Bleu]

3371327
Yep, that's the pun

[The Grey Pegasus]

What. The. Fuck?

Okay, got that out of my system. (As an AP US History student, this idea amuses me actually.) Now, I understand what you're trying to do with the accent/dialect, but I feel like it could be executed better. Also, the story telling may need more clarity.

[Monsieur Bleu]

3371283
I will avoid tropes at all costs, and I am prepared for the haters.

I am aware that the issues of slavery, racism, and the Antebellum South are delicate issues--but they should be addressed.

[Monsieur Bleu]

3371342

It is tricky converting an accent to text, so ideas and input are welcome.

However, the style is intentionally vague and not easy to follow. If I am going to write about the South, I might as well try to mimic Southern Gothic (if only somewhat).

[The Grey Pegasus]

3371381
I dunno... I'm not sure whether or not it's better to sacrifice style for clarity. I'm sure it will all make sense the farther down the line it goes... maybe.

Well, fine. Even Huckleberry Finn made more sense than this .

[Monsieur Bleu]

3371406

Hey I could try to go for The Sound and the Fury.

[Recovery15]

Accents a little rough, but I like it.
Plus, I'm from Carolina. Kudos for you!