LOGIN*Synopsis* In a world where social hierarchy and class distinctions are rigidly enforced, a forbidden romance blossoms between Freye a young slave, and Angus, one of the sons of the plantation owner. Their relationship begins as a secret affair with Angus exercising his privilege and Freye being forced into a situation she can't escape. Freye would spend her days as a slave, working tirelessly under the scorching sun and the oppressive life, and her nights warming the bed of the arrogant young master. Freye could not describe their relationship nor could she refuse the very handsome man. Angus is as intimidating as he is calm, as devious as he is pompous. However, as they navigate the complexities of their feelings for each other, they begin to challenge the societal norms that govern their lives. Especially when threats arise against their secret affairs. When Freye becomes pregnant, Angus is torn between his passion for his unborn child and his deep-seated prejudice against the child's heritage. As the pregnancy advances, Freye finds her own strength and agency, refusing to be bound by the expectations of those around her. As they face the consequences of their actions, Freye and Angus must confront the harsh realities of their world and the secrets they've kept hidden. Will their love be enough to overcome the obstacles in their path, or will the societal norms and expectations tear them apart? This novel explores themes of love, power, and identity, delving into the complexities of human relationships and the ways in which society can suffocate us.
View MoreMy mama dragged me to a nearby pond to wash our faces but I wouldn't stop shivering. Mama put me on her lap and dipped a washcloth into the pond. She gave it a squeeze and then placed it on my forehead. I had begun to burn up, my stomach quivering as dread descent over me.Mama looked unconcerned. Not a single hair of hers out of place. Her face, the only spotless place on her body, smooth and shiny. But I knew her. Even more than she thought I ever could. I could see the crease on her brow. My head to her chest, I could hear the loud thump of her heart, her heavy breathe and her shaking hands. We both fear we might lose a father and a husband. As insignificant as his presence might be. We both sat by the pond, anxiously counting the seconds, waiting for the time to come by.It came. I would remember that evening. I knew it would always hunt my dreams.As usual, all the aristocrats had assembled. All were ready for the fight. It was a bald man that first came out to speak." We all ar
"Mama, I squealed, excited to see a familiar face around. "Mama, see!". Before I could shout again, my mama hit my hand and covered my mouth. And that's when I saw him -my papa, in the ruthless hold of Master Hammond.Master Hammond stood tall amidst the crowd , his arm clasped around my papa's shoulder. He whispered into his ear before climbing the stairs into the nearest hall. I kept my eyes on my papa as he stood waiting for Master at the lawn, until a tall man that looked like Papa came forward. "Young man, you cannot stay here. Leave.", he sneered at Papa who in turn cocked his head, his arms akimbo. "And who are you to order me to leave?","I am Madame Sumaya's slave. Leave."Papa stared the man down and then he said. "I am Master Hammond's slave. I refuse."It happened so fast. The man gripped papa by his shoulders and head_butted Papa, making him to crash into to the mucky ground, blood gushing from his nose. Mama gasped with fear but papa only grinned at the brown skin
My mama is going somewhere today. Not just a casual ride through the plantation with Master Hammond, but into town. She packs her clothes into a satchel and takes a few coins she had hidden on the shelves. I trail behind her, keeping track of her every movement. I want to follow Mama today.Mama's skin is a toner shade of my own, olive, and her hair is the same brownish shade as mine. She's wearing a long skirt and a long-sleeved top, her usual attire. Everyone knows why she always wears long skirts, even in the scorching heat. I know why. It's because my papa hits her every night, leaving scars and welts on her skin from her bum to her ankle. I saw them once when she changed her dress, thinking I was asleep. The scars are bold and wicked, just like my papa.Mama turns to leave the room, and I rush after her, gripping her skirt tightly. "Let me follow you, Mama," I plead. She stares at me, shaking her head. My heart drops. Although Mama can talk, she usually communicates with gestures
At what point I slept off, I did not know. My eyes opened and the chamber was already bustling. Girls move about, chatting and doing different tasks. Karen was plaiting a woman's hair alongside some other girls, Jane was sewing her torn wrapper, a few others were loosing and plaiting their hair. Lady Esme sat at her usual spot, in between her legs were wood fibers, intertwining them in her wrinkled fingers. I stared at her for a long time and I came to realise she was making a shoe for her very large feets. She suddenly looked back at me and quickly looked away. The boldness to look at Esme was one thing, to hold her chilling gaze was something else. My hands shook and I swallowed thickly. I could still feel he gaze on me. I rolled my eyes. No wonder no master has bought her. No one would dare come closer to the witch of The Oak, not when she still stares at anyone like that. She finally looked away and I sighed with relief. I took another glance at the chamber. It was an unusual sce
Sneaking out, bathing, eating and sleeping has now become our habit. It became my routine. And everyday, while I suffer through the hardships, I comfort myself with imagining Angus and I looked forward to seeing him every night. Tonight, I have made sure the others were fast asleep before I jumpe
I bent, picking up the knife and I stepped closer to him. I stood at the same distance which he stood before Lola. Holding his gaze with my own calm expression, I thrust the knife into his heart. I have envisioned the scene so perfectly but I could not take myself to do it. I'm not a monster. I'm
Jane was only a child. She was only 16 years old, three years younger than I am but she was not born into slavery. Her mother was a mistress to her father before she died during her delivery. She was raised by her stepmother who mistreated her all her childhood. And when her father died after fall
I ran. I ran and I did not stop until I reach out camp. I paused when at the entrance where Lyla was waiting for me with a mocking smile on her face. I paused to look at her and I realised that she must have known that Angus was not far away. I stared at her until she began to quiver under my scru






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