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Things Change
By Heather Heartnet
“Friends forever you promised. Together ‘til the end. We were always
there for each other. You were my best friend. As long as we had each
other, everything would be okay. You were the greatest friend. You
always knew what to say.”
That’s how my freshly written poem for John’s gloomy funeral began.
Johnny L. Bairy was my best friend, but we were only there for each other
for seven years. Now his end has come, but we were together in the end.
It all started on the last year of the Civil War. We all knew
that soon us slaves would be free. I was six, and my best friend Johnny
was seven. My jobs were to feed the animals on the farm, plant and pick
some vegetables/flowers in the large garden. When I was done with that,
I had to come inside the mansion and do even more chores.
Now I would like to describe where I lived. My friend Johnny and I
shared a room inside an oversized house. Our room was no more than a
freezing cold, cement floored basement. The only good part about it was
that I was only in there to sleep. John and I slept in the right corner
of the closet sized room, on a straw mat. We had one thick brown blanket
that kept us warm in winter. There was one hole on my side of the
blanket, which was about the size of a fist. It always left my right leg
extra cold.
The floor, which I studied every night, was a cold icebox that was
harder than a rock. The walls were painted light blue, which put me in a
deep sleep quickly.
The rest of the mansion was a beautiful teal color, and held a large
turret on the left side. There were too many rooms inside to count! I
had only been in half of them before I left.
I had been in the house since I was about four years old. I don’t
remember where I was before I came to this place, but I do know that I
was a slave then too. I was sold to the mistress of where I’m staying
now, in a big town with lots of black people like me there. I was scared
that someone wouldn’t buy me, but when I saw the mistress’ eyes upon my
cut back, I knew from the look in her eyes that she was not at all like
the rest of the people there. Her deep blue eyes showed a little speck
of love for all of the slaves there. When she outbid everyone else to
buy me, I knew she would be different from my other owner. She was
comely and looked compassionate, but little did she know that later she
would be punished for her feelings about us slaves. Her insides were
homely and cruel! When I got to her mansion, I felt strangely nervous
because of the tremendous size of her house. I was scared I would not
please her. Then she took me into my new bedroom, gave me clothes, and
told me what to do in the morning. When I woke up late, she screamed
louder than a lady should ever scream. Especially a petite, beautiful
woman in a dashing dress. She also got a whip and cracked it over my
back. It didn’t bug me too much, for I had been beaten my whole life and
my skin had become hard and callused. My whole childhood was like this.
A beating in the morning, chores, and screaming in the afternoon.
Soon I met a person who would change my life forever. His name was
Johnny L. Bairy. I called him John for short. The mistress did not
treat him poorly though, for he always did his chores correctly and on
time. John was my best friend. If I was ever running late, he would
help me with my jobs and get all of his done on time too. He was always
there for me when I needed him. His gentle and callused black hands
always seemed warm against my cold bleeding ones. At night he would look
at me with his pale worn brown eyes and whisper, “Sam, everything’s going
to be alright.”
Those words seemed to take away all my fears and pains. His smooth
voice always seemed so confident about what the future would bring.
Everything started getting harder for me all of a sudden. The mistress
saw that John did some chores for me so she added more tasks for me to
do. Eventually I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to get away somehow!
I planned it all out the night before I left. I didn’t tell anyone, not
even John, where I was going and how I was going to get there. I had to
leave the house and get far away from slavery.
I left the next morning on foot. It was about three o’clock in the
morning. All I brought with me was my clothes wrapped up in a blanket.
I also made myself five peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, two ham
sandwiches, and three apples. In a large container I stored fresh water.
All of the food and drinks went in the blanket. I didn’t know how long
it would take me to get there, but I didn’t care just as long as I didn’t
have to stay with my cruel master.
As soon as I got out the door, I ran. I ran until I was off her
property and couldn’t run anymore. Then I started to walk while humming
to myself. I walked north toward Canada where I would be safe. Today
was my birthday, so I didn’t think too much of anything else. Even
though I was only twelve, I knew what direction north was because Johnny
taught me. I didn’t care about where I would stay or what the rest of my
life would bring. All I cared about was the fact that I was free!
17 Days Later
Goodbye Georgia, hello Canada! I had finally made it after walking for
so long. I won’t waste my time telling you what happened on the road and
how I got there so fast. That would take seventeen days! So back to my
story.
I finally reached Canada. Amazing! It was not what I had expected. It
was much more! Everyone was so friendly! Eventually after twenty years
I became a successful and popular businessman. I lived in a small town
where everyone knew everyone else. In the morning I traveled into town
to work. One thing I never did though was marry. Other than that, I had
a great life.
I had never stopped to think about what happened to my friend. I guess
I was just too happy to think about the bad times. Little did I know
that he had been through some really bad times, and was still looking for
me. He wasn’t trying to find me to give me a happy hello, but just the
opposite.
When I left, Johnny was tortured. The mistress tried to find out from
him where I was. When he wouldn’t tell her, she took him to her torture
chamber. She put him on a table that held his arms and legs. When she
turned a crank it stretched out his body. She did this until he screamed
endlessly with excruciating pain. When he didn’t tell her because he
didn’t know, she threw him into a large and cold dungeon. All she fed
him was one piece of bread and one glass of water every day. He went
through this torture for around two years. The mistress seemed to have
forgotten all about him. All that was in his dungeon was a few nails and
some hay. Eventually Johnny dug his way out with a nail. When he got
outside, he charged back into the house, went up to his master’s room,
and stabbed her fifty times with his nail until she was dead. Then he
ran outside in search of me, so he could kill me, too. I didn’t know any
of this at the time, but I found out later in the newspaper.
On my thirtieth birthday, I was on my way to the local bar to celebrate
with my friends. I decided to take a shortcut through a dark alley. In
the corner, hidden by the shadows was a large square outline of a figure.
“Hello, Sam,” he said quietly. I knew it was John because of the soft
gentle voice.
“Johnny!” I screamed.
Then he walked out with a gun pointed in my direction. I didn’t know
what to do so I just threw my hands in the air. I was scared. “Johnny,
what’s going on? Why are you doing this? Let’s talk it over, buddy. You
aren’t this kind of person,” I calmly but hurriedly told him. “Things
change.” John responded.
“No,” I said, “things don’t change, we change.” Without saying another
word, he placed his finger on the trigger, about to shoot when the
police, who were making their nightly rounds, happened to see John. They
came up behind him and said, “You’re under arrest.”
