Ghosted Myself From The Site · 5:59pm Jul 25th, 2022
Not livestock in his eyes. Not one bit.
Oh how their families huddled under a leaky roof. How the water dripped down onto the hay in which they lay while a welcoming party of rats squeaked by their ears in the middle of the night. Traps recently laid in their wake from a rat catcher sworn to the practice, yet it did only little to quell the tide created by a communication far too late. Mr. Burr knew this, but he was only just realizing the magnitude of his grievances. The barn, the old rickety outhouse of a quarters was not considered, truly, a quarters. It did not shield them properly. It was not of the guards, but he could not make it of the guards as that would mean they are equal. Therefore, where can Mr. Burr stop? Where can he safely, without mutual fear, provide shelter?
Mutual Fear coming soon.
Going to be tweaking this throughout the remainder of writing this, so don't worry if the voice of the narrator sounds Shakespearean.
I think I have too.
Ah, Burr has found himself a rare and delicate sort of insurgency to wage.
Slaves Freedom is my favorite fanfiction about slavery.