A Day in the Life of a New Southerner

Disclaimer: the story is set in an A/U of the USA post civil war, the story is very dark and contains derogatory language among other things. If you don’t like it please read no further, but if you do, please no comments concerning the language, you were warned beforehand.



A day in the life of a new southerner

Niggers, I don’t know what we would do without them, if we didn’t have niggers I don’t know where we would be right now. That fuck Lincoln tried to take our niggers from us, but we showed him. My great-great-great granddaddy fought and died under the command of General Lee at the battle of Manassas, as the story is told. His brother was with Lee when Grant surrendered at Appomattox on April the 8th, 1865. I was born on our family’s plantation many years later, and was raised on the stories of my ancestors as they defeated the Yankee menace.

Today I also serve as an officer in the Confederate army, recently I returned home to Georgia to be with my family before I would have to report back to my unit. Mama was making an apple pie, daddy was sitting by the fire smoking his cigar, my brother Thomas was in the fields with his men making sure that we could earn a living.

I walked to the stables and found my old friend still there, Lee, a 4 year old quarter horse that my daddy gave me on my 15th birthday. I saddled my old friend and went to look for Thomas, I rode off towards the southern fields since that’s most likely where he would be. It was like old times riding Lee, the wind in my hair, the smell of the crisp Georgian air, god how I missed home.

I found Thomas right where I expected him to be. As I rode up I could see that he had one of the hands tied to a tree, as the whip fell across his muscled sweaty back I called out to him just as another blow landed across the man’s back,

“JR how you doing?” he called back.

Good I responded as we talked over the bloody heap by the tree, “so what he do?” I asked

“Caught the fuck trying to steal some of the food they were supposed to be harvesting. We save them from that land of heathens, feed them, clothe ‘em, and this is what they do, fucking savages”, he said as he spit a stream of tobacco onto the ground.

“Come on lets go get washed up its almost lunch time, Tiny make sure them niggers don’t try nothing while I’m gone I’ll be back after I have lunch with my little brother”, he said as he wrapped me in a head lock.

After we had a huge lunch I spent the rest of the day wandering around the farm reminiscing about the old days. The dinner bell rang and we all headed back the house for a late supper, mama did good when she picked out the new cook from the auction, this coon could really cook. I retired early as I was tired from my travels and from being home.

I was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of a loud alarm going off, I jumped out of my bed, trying to find the source of the alarm when my brother came bursting into my room.

“runner!” he shouted

I grabbed my clothes off the floor where I had dropped them before I went to sleep, tossing them on quickly before grabbing my shotgun off the wall. I ran with my brother toward the stables, thankfully his men had already saddled our horses. We rode off into the dark night, the heavy breathing of my horse and the sound of the hounds filled my ears, as we tracked down our property.

About five miles from the farm we caught up with them, my brother fired off a shot into the air to make them stop, but they kept running somehow trying to escape. I was closing in on one of them when I saw a dark shape being drawn, something in my head made me turn just as I saw a muzzle flash, and heard the snap of a bullet barely missing me. You can always tell how close it is just by the sound a hiss means it’s close a snap means they’re shooting at you.

I leveled my shotgun over my arm as I held the reins tight in my hand, the gun smack back into my hand as a Negro fell dead from a 3 inch hole in his back. Now it was not just one muzzle flash it was many, my brother and his men returned fire hitting all of the escapees, in one way or another. When the firing stopped we dismounted and approached with caution, you never knew if a coon was playing possum. I nudged one with the toe of my boot, he groaned lightly, I called over to my brother who was tending to a gunshot wound on Tiny.

Thomas quickly searched him for more weapons while I covered him with my shotgun. We dragged him to a tree, he had a gut shot, we all knew that he didn’t have long to live so my brother started in on him right away, wanting to know where the weapons came from, and how many others were involved. He tried to stay true and not say anything but my brother has his ways of getting information. Thomas was able to find out that they had gotten their weapons from the abolitionists up north, upon even more pressure he reveled the names of 5 more who were in on it, before he died.