Horror on Royal Street

The hour came, and passed, and still no whip'o'will calling through the window. But Miselle had said four hours...and it had been four hours. As a thought dawned on her, Aimee hurried down the stairs that should have led to her freedom. Sarah, chained, limped from the space between the fireplace and the table where the night's dessert sat in trays on the table. Aimee didn't take time to wonder why dessert had not been served yet.

"Sarah, you seen Miselle'"

The old woman at first seemed not to hear her. A lifetime of pain and abuse had done away with all courtesies; she was treated like an animal and so she acted like one, hardly ever acknowledging any of the other women who toiled in the house.

"Please Sarah, please...!"

Finally the woman raised dull eyes at Aimee, her hand dexterously adding apple frosting to the Napoleons.

"She gone...saw her leave just after sunset. Snuck outta here, told me to tell no one. Guess that no one `cluded you, huh?"

A wave of nausea hit Aimee full in the stomach, intensified by the overly sweet smell of sugared apples.

"She done left me," Aimee said softly in wonder. "After she promised..."

"Coulda told ya not to trust that one, but I don't reckon ya woulda listened to me the first. Yo mind on gettin' outta here, don't see nutin' else. Don't see that a woman won't let nutin' come betwixt her and her man. You shoulda knowed. You best get on up them stairs and forget what ya know, otherwise all of us gonna see that attic door tonight." The old woman looked stern, daring her even with chains wrapped around her legs.

For just a second, Aimee thought about bolting through the door and running, not caring where, just anyplace she could hide until sunup, then she could plan what she would do next.

"Don't think girl! Do! I'm savin' yo life tonight. Get on up them stairs and forget what ya think you know, `cause you don't know a daggone thang."

Aimee's defiance seeped outta heard as the old slave went back to icing the desserts. As slow as though Sarah' s chains tangled her own legs, Aimee climbed the kitchen stairs back up to eternity. She would never leave this place alive. Something said it in her bones, and she had tried to ignore her bones these many days of planning, of hoping. She opened the door to her room and closed it behind her.

*****

The mewling sound woke her from her tossed-and-turned slumber. The voice was weeping, hardly human. Aimee didn't know what time it was, there being no window in her room, but her senses told her it was very late. All the guests should now be gone.

"Noooo, Mistress, noooo...."

Aimee soon recognized the words...and the voice. "Miselle..." she whispered to herself. But how... Miselle should have long been gone.

Then she remembered the lateness of the dessert. And Sarah's words: "you best forget what you know..." But Sarah hadn't forgotten, though Miselle had probably begged her to. But the old woman's fear of what lay beyond those attic doors removed any loyalty. "Don't reckon ya woulda listen to me the first..." Sarah had probably warned Miselle, but Miselle would hear none of it. Too quick to dismiss any word that got in the way of her plans.

So Sarah had told Mistress. And Mistress had kept her guests entertained while she sent men out to fetch the fleeing Miselle. Dessert would follow Miselle's capture, something to be savored for later.