Spellbound: The Awakening of Aislin Collins by Margeaux Laurent Page A

She
never knew the joys of running barefoot on a summer’s day or
playing in the creek and picking berries until the sunset, never
having to answer to anyone except loving parents who granted you
freedom to be a child. Instead, Becky worked from sun-up until
sundown for the Smiths. Yet, even under their harsh thumb, she had
managed to find some semblance of happiness. Becky was married to
Pete, who was also a servant of the Smith family. They had one
child, precious little Isaac.
    Finally, Becky answered the door. I could
tell that she had not been expecting company and was in the middle
of work. She was brushing flour off her apron as she pulled the
door wide open. The flour had gotten on her jet-black hair and it
dusted her long thick eyelashes as well. Becky used her forearm to
wipe the flour from her face as she turned her attention to the
threshold.
    She had the same large auburn eyes as her
mother, and I watched as they landed on Isaac and went wide. Her
soft cocoa skin paled as she lifted her gaze to me. She was about
my age but her eyes seemed to show a woman who was far passed
girlhood. She was quite beautiful, she stood a little bit taller
than me, and was very thin. Even in her worn work clothing, mere
hand-me-downs from her slaveholder, she had a grace about her.
    I handed Isaac over and tried to explain
what had happened, but as I spoke, I saw terror spreading across
her face. Her full lips quivered as she looked passed me, and I
watched as her arms tightened around her child’s body.
    “Run Aislin,” she hurriedly muttered under
her breath.
    Just as I was about to ask what was wrong
she slammed the door shut. I turned around with my back to the
door. I found myself facing a towering man, with broad shoulders,
ruddy cheeks that matched his carrot colored hair, and a scowling
expression. Mr. Marthaler’s green eyes looked down at me with
distain, and behind him stood his two sniveling son’s, Mathew and
Zachariah. I had no time to react. I was struck hard and fast in
the face, not once, but twice. I slumped to the ground and felt
blood trickling off my lips. The slaves who were in the yard,
looked on helplessly as the Marthalers’ stomped passed them. If
they ran to help me, they endangered themselves and their whole
families.
    I struggled to get up and pushed anyone away
who came close. I did not want to cause any more pain than they
already had to face. I could walk. I was just in shock.
    I headed back to find my mother and was only
feet away from the market house, when I noticed all the people
staring at me and shaking their heads. They were siding with the
Marthalers and I was thought to be the one who deserved the
beating. My eyes welled up with uncontrollable tears. People cursed
at me as I passed. I turned back away from them and I started
running… running away from the market, passed the town shops and
into the woods. I did not think or perhaps I no longer cared.
    I came to an old weeping willow that stood
next to a flowing creek. I dropped down and wept bitterly. I wept
for all I had seen, all my mother had lived through and for the
fear of what Isaac’s family would now face because of me. I curled
my knees into my chest and buried my face from the world. I had
enough of it all.
    Sneachta was with me and did her best to
comfort me, but to no avail. Then I heard something that made me
stop weeping and freeze in place. Someone was near me.
    “There, there, my dear Aislin.”
    It was my protector. I looked up slowly to
see that he was crouched down beside me. He gently reached out and
stroked my hair with his fingertips, as I blinked the tears from my
eyes. His presence seemed to soothe me instantly and I watched as
he walked over to the water’s edge where he dipped a cloth into the
flowing creek. I could not understand where he had come from.
    Sneachta purred as she moved toward my feet
to let him sit closer to me. He returned and softly tilted my face
with his hand, looking at the areas where