Monster's Ball :Shadow In Time Read Online Free Page A

woman did indeed give her a much needed sense of family and belonging. “You have a good night last night? I saw your light was on late, when I came in from my shift. I would've knocked on your door, but I was tired myself, and figured you had fell asleep reading again. I didn't want to wake you up.” she called as she strolled back into the sparsely decorated living room.
     
     
    Still smiling, the old African American woman laughed. “Don't you worry about me. I'm 87, and woke up this morning. That alone made it a good night. Shoot, I got two good eyes, my back is straight, and if I set my mind to it, I can walk from here to the store, so I'm blessed. Sit yo' self down, child. Made some fresh Jasmine tea for us to enjoy.” she said as she poured the freshly brewed mixture into two old porcelain tea cups. “I was just reading about the big whoop-dee-doo up at the Whitman Plantation. You know, the Ball.”
     
     
    “The Ball?”
     
     
    “Uhhh huhhh.” she murmured, then took a sip of tea and nodded at the local newspaper spread out in front of her on the coffee table. “Seems the media's frustrated they aren't allowed to cover the event in person. So some of the reporters are resorting to the lowest common denominator, hinting that scandalous goings-on may be afoot there. Big surprise, that, huh?” she finished with a dry chuckle.
     
     
    Picking up the paper, Rena glanced at the picture of the grand old mansion, letting out a wistful sigh as she thought about the rumors she'd heard over the years about the lavish event. “I heard the guest list is so exclusive it's actually kept under lock and key, and people have offered big bucks trying to buy their way in. Last year someone even tried to auction off counterfeit tickets on EBAY. I'm sure the media spreading the rumors of these wild goings-on are just to sell more papers.”
     
     
    “I've lived here most of my life. Only time I lever left was when the sideshow went on the road, working the mountains of Virginia, Tennessee, and around Kentucky, but that's another story to be told another time. But I'll tell you this much, all my life I've heard folks talk about the evil in that Whitman Plantation. Stories passed down by word of mouth, you understand. The one irrefutable fact is this: The mistress of that place went mad one night and murdered nearly all her slaves, all because a handsome, wealthy business man broke her heart.”
     
     
    “Huh, I've heard some of those stories.” Rena replied with a faraway look in her eyes.
     
     
    “Yep...killed almost all of them slaves in one night. Now as for the possible yarns, folks said some of the bodies looked like wild animals had ripped them apart, and the ones who were still in one piece had a look of horror frozen on their faces, like the doors to Hell had been opened and they had got a glance at what was inside.”
     
     
    Spellbound, Rena remained silent, listening intently.
     
     
    “I was in there as a young girl, once. It was on a school field trip, where we were visiting local historical landmarks. Well, me and my young boyfriend decided we wanted to explore the library on the second floor, so we snuck off on our own. From the moment we stepped in there it felt like someone or something was watching us, then, with God as my witness, I felt a hand touch my face. Child, let me tell you, I screamed like a banshee, so loud that that wimpy boyfriend of mine peed himself and took off running without me. I was right behind him though, and ran so fast I was halfway home before my teacher caught me.”
     
     
    That said, they both broke out in peals of laughter.
     
     
    It was true that Rena had heard some of the stories, but as was wont with most people, the stories always grew wilder with each retelling, until a person was unsure if any grain of actual truth remained. She was inclined, however, to take the tale she had just heard at face value. She herself had always wanted to visit the Whitman