The Tornado


The seas were unambitiously beating across the shore, shadowed by the clear white clouds looming the free blue sky as the light observed black Madea through the keyhole of a kitchen screen. Filth and water flowed from the same bucket and as glisten shone on the silverware, she turned her head aside so that her sweat would not taint the utensils.


The palm trees waved high above as she stared at the extremely distant shadows of magnificent watercrafts floating mightily along the horizon, whilst simultaneously processing a coconut for its delicious white juice, as instructed by Jared. For it was this day he would arrive after the delivery of the last shipment to the plantations.


After having spaced out a while, a light gust of breeze carefully pussyfooted across her face, slowly exploring it with a gentleness she so few experienced. Slowly, the breeze was confident enough to become a steady flow of cool, moist wind, she put down the coconut. Sitting on a coconut, Madea cleared her mind, the product of air pressure calling out to her invitingly. She forgot who and what she was, she forgot the chatter between and what people spoke of, what it meant…


Just as her mind was almost rid of all she knew- just when she could almost transcend it all, the sound of hooves and wheels trampled over her reality, stomping her into the ground, the same ground where they whipped the livestock and slashed away at her hope.


The winds grew stronger as Monsieur Jared’s chariot neared- howling and threatening the horses but whip kept them moving, as if the Monsieur was above what they were going up against, god forbid the cart stop for anything his children were aboard!


Madea picked up the coconut, her perjorative was to please Jared – for he loved her, he loved all of them dearly. Negrillion, the gate keeper had just unlocked the doors when the chariot burst through the opening in a blaze of glory, and even.though the winds had began to become dangerous, the servants had been eager to greet them. They had to.


Monsieur Jared stepped out along with Madame Jared in his arms, her tender white skin and flesh resting on his shoulder, moving as he moved. As the clouds in the sky began to form a spiral, Jared stared down at his servants, smiled then exclaimed, “Where’s my lovely Madea? I’ve been looking forward to that beautiful beverage for a long time, ain’t nothin like that stuff in the inlands.”


The clouds spiraled more as Madea stepped out from behind the other servants with neither beverage nor reason. She stared blankly at Jared, not knowing how to respond. Jared looked directly into her eyes, but this was worse than.last

time, an active pressure making her feel infinitely small, as if eyes could shrink people to the size of a grain.


The tornado had formed behind her, drawing water up in the sky as it neared the land. The skies quickly turned black and Jared commanded: “All the women get inside, the rest of you slaves will try to strengthen the house so it is not lost, Madea I’ll deal with you later.”


Madea was in no position to refuse, but she had. She suddenly took off and began running, right in the direction of the tornado. “Stop her!” Jared stated as he loadad his gun and point it towards Madea, too late as she sent herself into the arms of nature. She rose above her former master growing bigger and bigger, and he feared her.


“Get my pro-per-ty out of that mess” Yelled the master, but it was clear that he was less the master and more of a mortal, shielding his face from the wind as it the vortex towered above what was his property, leeching off and stomping on the ground what was once his garden, his pool, wrecking the windows like a corrupted cleaning cloth, bringing the destruction of what had kept her in chains and in pain with extreme prejudice, water from the sea coming back down, like spit, raining onto them in spite of everything the Monsieur stood for, pulling the palm tree up from its roots and flinging it across the sky… and then as quickly as she’d come, she was gone.


“I really liked that palm tree” noted the Monsieur. He had the Negros whipped and warned, if anyone ever tries a stunt like that again the rest of the slaves would never see the end of it…


Yet Madea had done what he never could – she had gone to the skies, she was miles above the men and the skin and the chains, for miles out to the oceans where men sailed freely, a single coconut sank deep, buried under the silver clouds and cleansing flow of the blue sea.

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