I was relieved to have a boy. That he was lighter than his father. That the Missus wouldn’t abuse him like all the others I bore.
He was raised with his white half, grew up to give me commands.
When his sister was born, I tried to keep them apart. She was black like me, slept in the attic…
At night, years later, I hear the stairs creak under his heavy boot. My stomach twists in knots when she reemerges with the sun, her dress torn.
Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a story in one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided. Monday’s BlaPoWriMo / Black History Month-inspired prompt was the above photo of a mammy and her charge or, perhaps, a mother and her child. In that time, the lines were often blurred.