…..
Lock and Key
….
Through the tall hay, high as a pony’s chest, I spotted him ducking. He scrutinized me, watched me silently. From my partial view, I could see his coffee-colored skin glinting in the sun.
Not knowing what to do, I kept to my chore, hacking away at the dead tree Papa cursed at all last week. Said he didn’t have time to be hauling off some dead oak that fell in a lightning storm near a month ago. He told me it was a boy’s job. My ax arm was hurting and sore; still I hacked. Every few seconds, though, I’d spy a sideways glance to see if that man was still there, hiding in the hayfield to my left. Not hiding too good, I might add. He must have known I’d see him.
What to do.
Only 13, I don’t know what’s right. Some say the rich folks should be able to keep as many slaves as they can afford. Papa says he ain’t so sure. Don’t really matter much to us, I suppose, since we don’t have enough money for new shoes or leather gloves, much less slaves. Must be awful being somebody else’s possession, even worse, a runaway.He is gonna get hisself killed, I thought to myself as I chopped at the limbs. Another sideways glance. And he don’t look all that much older than me. Maybe 20. Maybe younger.
What to do.
My arm was dreadful tired, so I decided to chance it and take a break. Papa was off in town; Ma was making lunch. No one would catch me wasting a moment to relax my muscle. I’m not big like Papa, barely Ma’s size, really, but I’m growing. Soon I’ll be a real man.
Man. That black man. I caught his eye and lifted my chin his way. In that moment, everything stopped but the summer breeze. It brought some relief as it blew through my damp shirt. Then he lifted his chin too. Not that much older than me, but bigger. Darker, for sure.
What to do.
The man, he began to stand from the crouch where he hid. He was a head taller than that hay when he stood up full. Geez, he really could get hisself killed if somebody saw him. Who knows what a person might do. Even Mama. I thought of the rifle that stands ready near our kitchen stove. Here I was, and I had seen him. Who would see him next?
He lifted his hands through the golden-green hay stalks. Cuffs. Iron ones held his wrists inches apart. The man was locked tight by those manacles.
I paused, then looked at the heavy ax in my hands. I’ve never even been near a black man before. With a silent prayer we’d both be free of each other safely, I held the ax up and approached him slowly, crouching into the hay myself. No movement from the house; Mama had not seen me. Up close, the black man’s breath was fast and loud. I could see whiskers on his jaws. His eyes, full of fear and pleading.
It took only a moment and not one word.
He put his hands near the ground, and I lifted the ax over my shoulder. The hay prickled at my arms and face. In one swing, it was all over. Using all my 13-year old might, the blade crashed down. That iron chain weren’t so hefty and strong after all.
Free in one blow, the cuffs separated. His dark head nodded, he lifted his chin at me once again, and then he ran like a wild animal through the hayfield toward old man Carter’s farm.
He had been locked. My ax was the key.
Free.
With a dirty, shaking hand, I rubbed sweat from my cheek, sensing one tiny hair poking from my skin. I’d never noticed that whisker on my chin before. Maybe, I thought as I headed back to the dead oak and my boy’s job, I’m gettin’ closer to bein’ a real man.
…..
This flash-fiction story is from the chapbook It’s Time (Finishing Line Press), and can be found at https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/its-time-by-katie-sullivan-hughbanks/
It’s Time is a fresh collection of flash fiction that focuses on the immediacy of the moment. The most valuable commodity we have is time – time to notice, to feel, to reflect, to learn, to love. The characters in It’s Time bring this truth to life while revealing how connections to each other and the natural world are complicated and problematic, but ultimately beautiful. Each story reminds the reader that to be fully human, we must grasp the only moment we have is now.
Katie Sullivan Hughbanks is a Kentucky poet, fiction writer, and photographer whose work celebrates the beauty of nature, the power of connection, and the value of every voice. She teaches literature and writing at Assumption High School in Louisville and spends every moment she can writing, hiking, taking photos, singing, dancing, birdwatching, and admiring dogs of all types. Her first poetry collection, Blackbird Songs, was published in 2019 (Prolific Press).
Headshot photo: Jenny Cobb
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