The Slave and Her Apprentice

Arriving at Monticello

Long was an understatement. It took forever for us to get to the plantation. Upon arriving, there was a gate with a sign over it reading MONTICELLO. Oh freaking crap, I thought. I am going to be at Monticello, THE Monticello, where Thomas Jefferson lived, or in this case lives. We pull up to the Big House and I get out of the carriage. I look up the porch only to find a scrawny man staring back at me. If this was Thomas Jefferson, the entire American public has been lied to about his appearance for over 200 years. This man had tiny, beady eyes like those of a rat. His nose was the exact opposite with its elongated state. His lips were as thin as paper and his skin the same color, despite all of the sun. He walked down the stairs towards me. He began to circle me, looking me up and down. The man reached to lift my arm up, my muscles tensed because of instinct, but I refrained myself from snatching my arm away. He then roughly grabbed my chin and turned my head from side to side. The man began to pull on my chin to get me to open my mouth, but that was going too far. I locked my jaw and refused to budge.

“Open your mouth.” He said.

I did not move.

“I said, open your mouth!” The man raised his hand to hit me when a large, booming voice yelled,

“Enough!”

I looked up and a tall, regal looking man was gliding down the steps. One look at him and I knew without a doubt that this was the real Thomas Jefferson. The scrawny man put his hand down and lumbered back towards the steps, fuming. He then set his sights on the young man who bought me and began to release his fury.

“This is what you waste your Master’s money on; this scrawny, little, insolent, worthless thing? Master Jefferson told you to go by a slave worthy enough to take over as head cook. She looks as if she couldn’t even lift a pot!”

The way the scrawny man talked about me as if I was a reject sent waves of shock and anger through my core. The only thing stopping me from lashing out in retaliation was the fact of imminent death or lashing if I did.

The young man only smiled in a mother-amused-at-child-lack-of-knowledge way. What he said only solidified that.

“Looks can be deceiving, my dear Ignus. I do believe Mr. Jefferson has faith in my judgment which is why he sent me to find the slave and not you. So, I advise you follow his lead.”

At that the young man walked off. The scrawny man, Ignus, stood there spluttering for a few moments before he turned to Thomas Jefferson. But before he could say anything, Mr. Jefferson put up his hand.

“Jonathan is right, but only partially. He is right in saying that I have faith in his judgment but he wrong about why I chose him over you.  I chose him as my apprentice because of his intellect, which is something you lack in Ignus. However, you are strong in leading people, getting them to listen to you, which is why I chose you as Overseer and not him. You’ll just have to accept that fact and move on.”

Jefferson paused and looked down at me, his eyes clouded by mystery.

“What is your name girl?”

“W-Willow, sir.” Jefferson nodded and turned to Ignus.

“Take Willow to the kitchens and have whoever’s in there show her how things are done.”

Ignus nodded and grunted then roughly led me by arm towards the kitchens. I turned my head over my shoulder to get another look at Jefferson and saw him studying me as I was dragged away. Right before we stepped inside, Ignus put his mouth against my ear and it began to moisten at the heat of his breath.

“You were lucky this time, but next time, well, let’s just say you won’t know your own face when I’m done.” With that he slammed open the door and threw me inside.