Dark Genesis
Author: A. D. Koboah
Genre: Paranormal Romance
Format: eBook
Blurb:
Life
for a female slave is one of hardship and unspeakable sorrow, something
Luna knows only too well. But not even she could have foreseen the
terror that would befall her one sultry Mississippi evening in the
summer of 1807.
On her way back from a visit to see the African
woman, a witch who has the herbs Luna needs to rid her of her abusive
master’s child, she attracts the attention of a deadly being that lusts
for blood. Forcibly removed from everything she knows by this tormented
otherworldly creature, she is sure she will be dead by sunrise.
Dark
Genesis is a love story set against the savage world of slavery in
which a young woman who has been dehumanised by its horrors finds the
courage to love, and in doing so, reclaims her humanity.
Chapter One
My name is Luna and my tale begins on a dry summer evening in 1807.
I
was walking quickly along a dusty country road, my shoes stirring up a
small cloud of dust that turned the hem of my faded violet dress a muddy
brown. The trail of dust I left in my wake soon settled. But the
pressing need that had me make this two-hour journey in beaten shoes and
a broken spirit, in the midst of a particularly merciless Mississippi
summer, would not be settled as easily. Wiping the sweat from my brow
and waving away the flying insects that droned lazily near my face, I
wished for some respite from the relentless heat but found none.
Although the sun hung low in the topaz blue sky, it felt as if I were
walking through warm soup and it was likely to stay like this long after
the sun went down.
I would have found some relief from the
pitiless sun if I had chosen to walk through the woods that rose up on
either side of the road like a green and brown wall. But green woody
spaces such as those have been a deep source of fear for me since I was a
child and I imagined that they would continue to be so long past what I
guessed was my twenty-second or twenty-third year on this earth. So I
clutched my lantern and small cloth bundle and walked on in the heat,
listening to the birdcalls punctuate the otherwise still air.
I
was lucky to be able to make this journey during the summer months as
the previous two trips had been made in the dead of winter when night
gathered up the day long before I could finish serving the family’s
supper and slip away, leaving the other house slaves to do my share of
work and conceal my absence. That small mercy meant that I didn’t have
to walk alone in the dark, afraid to light my lamp in case the solitary
glow brought unwanted attention my way, or have to dive into the trees
every time the sound of a horse’s hooves disturbed the sweet melody of
the crickets. It also meant that when I turned the corner and saw the
woodland give way to cotton fields, marking the beginning of the
Marshall plantation, there was still roughly two hours of daylight left,
which meant I would be able to finish my business and be back before
dark, hopefully before I was missed by my hawk-eyed mistress.
I
stopped for a second to gaze at the rows of cotton up ahead. I have
always thought that there was something heavenly about cotton fields,
which looked like row upon row of fleecy white clouds caught up in brown
nets. But I’m sure that the brown-skinned figures bent double between
those rows would have disagreed. For them, there was nothing even
remotely celestial about the cotton fields in which they had been
toiling since sunrise. And they were likely to still be working in them
when the sun set. Even from this distance I could see that most
of them were wretchedly thin, their few flimsy items of clothing in
tatters. And although I wasn’t close enough to see their faces, I was
sure that they all wore uniform expressions of misery and fatigue.
I
left that unhappy sight and ducked into the trees on my left, a
necessary shortcut to the slave quarters. Although many slaves have used
this shortcut on their way to see the African woman, I’m sure I’m the
only one who ran all the way through the trees looking back over my
shoulder even though I knew I wasn’t being followed. Only when I saw a
flash of white through the trees did I slow down so my breathing could
return to normal by the time I exited the screen of trees.
The
slave quarters were little white cabins made of wood, which lay in two
long rows some distance from the Master’s mansion. Only a few children
were around at this hour, some of whom recognised me and stopped what
they were doing to stare with a quiet reverence that made me
uncomfortable. It was the same reverence I had received from the
grownups the last two times I had come here under the cover of darkness
and they had not only stopped what they were doing to watch me pass by,
but nodded or offered some sort of greeting, which I returned before
hurrying on by. I didn’t have to endure that kind of scrutiny today, but
I still hurried down to the lone cabin at the back of the clearing,
which was nestled under the shadow of the trees some distance away from
the rest of the slave quarters.
Many slaves came to visit Mama
Akosua for her medicines, and her skills were known far and wide. It was
also rumoured that she dealt in more than just herbs and was actually a
witch. Whether that was true or not, she was feared by many, even some
of the whites, and few dared incur her wrath.
As I got nearer to
the cabin, I saw that the door had been left open and a light was
burning inside even though the sun had yet to go down. I approached
gingerly. Already feeling the unease that always possessed me in the
presence of the African woman, I walked up to the door, and stopped.
“Mama Akosua.”
There was a short spell of silence and then her voice floated out to me.
“I have been expecting you.” The voice was low and dry like the sound of rustling leaves.
She
probably said that every time someone came to her door, no doubt to
help foster the belief that she was a powerful all-seeing, all-knowing
witch. But the words still sent icy fingers trailing down my spine and I
swallowed before taking her words as permission to enter.
About the Author:
A.D. Koboah was born in London and completed an English Literature
degree in 2000. Her first novel, Dark Genesis, was inspired by the
concept of dehumanisation and the impact it can have on the psyche. She
is currently working on a screenplay and will begin the sequel to Dark
Genesis shortly.
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