The creeks of the boat sing me a lullaby during the night. There must be hundreds of us, innocent and free. We are cramped in here, slowly dying. I think the guy next to me is dead. Laying on this callous floor, makes me think of the good times, when I was living in Francia(France) with my master and his family.
The name’s Iver Love. I am a literate negro, but was despised. I live in a world where muscle was rewarded instead of intelligence. I know I wasn’t strong, but that never stopped me to be who I was. I wanted freedom, a life that was worth living.
Kolt, a brother of mine, taught me how to read and write. Ever since then, I loved and respected the power of words. In the darkest moments of my journey through life, I found myself writing my pain away.
The boat came to a jolting stop waking up the whole lower level. The door slammed open, it was one of the shipmen. The shipmen never gave us any respect, especially Louis, the captain. Louis was very unprofessional, I can tell that he wasn’t part of the government. He was a rebel, kind of like a want to be pirate.
For the average rebel, Louis was very clean. He had heavenly long blonde hair that not even his greatest enemies will deny. Sadly, his looks couldn´t stand for the man’s personality. Louis treated us like stray dogs, no slave could stand up to Louis.
Louis unchained our shackles and put us in a line. The stabbing voice of one of the ship´s crew roared throughout the ship, cueing Louis to send us out. I was wearing a small robe that started from my waist and ended down to my knees. We were all wearing the same thing, so fashion choices weren’t a consideration. I tucked my journal in my robe and we climbed out of the ship.
The sun glared in my eyes, I put my hand on my forehead, for shade. I scouted the village, we were consciously isolated, because of the color of our skin. The cold, hard eyes of all the white trash this town held was on us.
We kept a steady pace, walking across town. The heat was suffocating us, one of our brothers fell on their knees, but was whipped back up. The heat didn’t bother me, I would do a thousand days in the hot sun, to be a free man.
We reached an army camp, where there were British soldiers. They made us wait outside the tents with the shipmen, while Louis went inside to speak to the soldiers. I wanted to fight, Louis would give us freedom if we fought for them.
Louis came out and gave us an area where we could sleep. I found a comfy place by a fallen tree trunk and I sat there with my journal thinking about the things I would get once I got my freedom. I would share my poems and stories with everyone. I always wanted to share my stories with my brothers. Like I said before, muscle is more valued than education.
All night I dreamed about going into war and killing many enemies. I would save lives and get many awards for bravery. Feeling the warm air hit my body, the smell of the fresh outdoors, truly felt like paradise.
We woke up at gun fire, the battle has begun. Louis wasn’t here, but another general gave us clothes and sent us to the enemy lines. The brothers and I were loaded up on a carriage, I could really feel my adrenaline go. The rocky road put the carriage wheels in rhythm with the horse’s footsteps. I knew we were close to the battle, the gun fire was getting louder and louder.
I thought, ¨Once the war is over, my brothers and I will get the freedom we deserve.¨ The carriage stopped and we jumped off. The brothers immediately split up and ran to different areas. I darted to a trench where a few of the British soldiers were reloading. I followed the path the trench made. An explosion sprang the dirt up into my eyes, blinding me.
I fell back against the wall of the trench, the seconds I had my eyes closed felt like years. I stumbled back up, feeling my pocket to know my journal was still there. The noise was too much for me, I was scared and lonely. I wanted to just close my eyes and escape.
The trench ended, I squatted down and began to head up, there was an open space from the ending of the trench to the fort. I ran and dove into the fort. The fort was empty, I had to remain on my stomach, because there was openings in the fort. They were dead Brits, they were shot multiple times in the chest. The sight of a human carcass didn’t seem to bother me at this point. I searched the bodies, looking for anything I could use. I found a small rifle. I crawled next to a window and glanced at the war ground.
I sat, leaning against the wall of the fort. I closed my eyes and dreamed about the war ending. All my brothers were free, they had families of their own and a job that they loved. I felt much more relaxed knowing that there will be a reward after this. I could see one day, my stories will be famous. I would inspire children to follow their dreams and be who they wanted to be.
I crawled to the end of the fort and ran back into the trench. The sight of dead soldiers filled the grounds of the trench. Most of them were Brits. One of the dead soldiers looked like one of the shipmen. I couldn’t waste my time, I had to move.
I climbed out of the trench, the sight was unbearable. Everyone was dead, all the Brits were shot and killed gruesomely. I saw brothers and even the cold body of Louis. Seeing someone, you hated, dead, wasn’t very satisfying. Life is incredibly short. I couldn’t help, I began to cry thinking about the mysteries of life after death.
I heard footsteps coming from the trench. I panicked and ran the other way. As I was running away, I felt this sharp pain in my back…
I woke up in a small tent. I was in new clothes, but looking at the designs of the clothes, I knew I wasn’t with the British.
Before I could do anything a Native American woman opened the tent and retreated, with fright. I pushed myself upright and patted around the ground looking for my journal. I couldn’t find it. I ran out the tent and saw Native Americans everywhere. Rows of tent and campfires surround the prairies, the men are hunting and the woman are taking care of dinner. Children are running and playing.
I began to walk and slowly noticed that people were beginning to stare at me. All I wanted was my journal. A white man came out of one of the tents and began to walk towards me.
I froze there, just staring at him come to me. He was very well dressed, he had messy white hair with an awkward smile. He approached me gently and spoke to me in a different language. So I spoke in French, hoping he gets the idea I don’t understand him. He had a slight pause and began speaking in French, this made me much more comfortable when he spoke my mother language.
The tall man addressed himself as Thomas Jefferson. We went back to the tent and he explained where I was. He told me to stay here and let the Oneida Tribe take care of me. I hated the war, so I naturally agreed. I told him I was a slave in Francia and came here by ship to fight for the British.
Thomas shared his harsh thoughts on slavery, explaining that it wasn't right. This made me feel relieved and confident I was in a safe place. After a while, Thomas introduced me to the Chief of the Oneida Tribe. With the Chief, there was a translator who spoke English, French and Onyota'aka(their native language).
As Thomas Jefferson walked away, I noticed that he had my journal hanging out from his bag. I stopped him and told him the book was mine. He gave a surprised look and he pulled it out. He explained that he was a writer himself, but would have never been able to write something like this he added and he handed the book back to me.
I stuck around the translator a lot, everyone knew him. His name was Attakullakulla, but I requested to call him Alfonso. Alfonso was a tall skinny boy with his brown eyes matching his hair and skin. He overheard Thomas talk to me about my writing and he asked me to teach him how to read and write in French. I accepted the challenge, but I asked him to teach me how to read and write in English in return; he happily accepted.
Throughout summer, we became good friends. My english was getting a lot better and Alfonso’s doing great progress in reading French. Alfonso showed me how to hunt and he trained me to survive in the wild. Most nights the tribe would sit around a campfire, singing and dancing all night long.
Summer was coming to an end and my English became a lot better. Alfonso and I were in the fields hunting for buffalo with the older men in the tribe. Alfonso was joking around with the little kids, while the men did the serious hunting. One of the kids got hurt and we walked him back to the camp.
I never realized how far the camp was from the hunting fields, but I didn’t worry, because Alphonso wasn't worried. The kid grabbed each of our hands and we continued walking, enjoying the beautiful prairies. As we reached the camp, we saw that it's empty and the people just have seemed to disappear.
Alfonso began to panic and began looking for his parents, while I tried comforting the kid. I began to follow Alfonso into his tent and saw him crying over his mom’s cold, lifeless body. I quickly pushed the kid out of the tent, hoping he didn’t see the body. We were attacked.
I Looked around the other tents, a few were dead, the others were probably taken away. I imagine the poor woman and children frightened as they were attacked. I knew the British did this. We waited outside the tent, while Alfonso was inside, until the men came back from hunting.
As the day goes to bed, the men still haven't returned. The child was asleep and Alfonso walks out from the tent. He grabbed his father's bow and arrows. I went and grabbed mine. We slept together in the same tent, I couldn’t sleep that night. From the corner of my eye I still see Alfonso whimper and cry about his mother. I felt really bad for him, but all he needed now was silence.
The sun rose and I woke up to Alfonso gathering supplies, he explained to me that we had to move and find a new tribe. I persisted that we should stay, but Alphonso had made up his mind. I woke up the kid and we head off. I was really proud of the kid for being so calm in a situation like this, it’s harsh for a kid at this age to face challenges like this.
We go through the wilderness , stepping over fallen tree trunks and avoid muddy areas. It was a silent journey, Alfonso was quiet and was always ahead of us. Some nights we would not stop and continue to travel. With Alfonso’s expertise in survival food wasn’t hard to find.
After 2 days of travel, we reached a small village. They were friendly to us and one person offered their home to us, so we can sleep there. The man talked about the war and told us there will be a battle not far from here, 2 days from now. Alfonso was eager to fight once he heard the news, he convinced me to join him in war. After the 2 days, Alphonso and I woke up at dawn. We left the kid at the man’s house, knowing he will be safe there.
We snuck into the camps of the Native American tribe fighting in the battle and we were unnoticed. They sent us to war, with the new skills I’ve learned I was much more prepared for this battle. I followed Alfonso and we began firing with our bows. I hit lots of British soldiers and so did Alfonso, we ended up winning that battle.
For the next few months, we followed the American soldiers going into battle with them. Alfonso and I made a good team. Alfonso was still unsatisfied we wanted to kill more soldiers, because of their raid on his tribe and the death of his mother. We trained with the soldiers, getting stronger and faster. We were preparing for a pretty big battle and Alphonso was very eager to fight.
The army woke up early and we were sent to war. Alfonso was much more aggressive during this battle, we began torturing the enemy soldiers then killing them. The battle seemed to last much longer than the other battles, but Alfonso wasn’t satisfied. He ran towards the middle of the field, shooting many soldiers. I pushed him back and told him to be careful, but he ignored me. It was night and most of the army men were in the camp getting some rest, but Alfonso was out there.
He didn’t return to camp, so I went looking for him. It was getting really dark, but the battle was still going on. Then I saw Alfonso, shooting away, I made a sigh of relief and began to walk towards him. I saw a familiar face next to him, the man was sneaking up on him. I screamed his name and when Alfonso turned around, he was too late. The man stabbed Alfonso multiple times in the stomach. I ran, pulling out my dagger and I stabbed the man, bringing him to the floor. I looked at the man’s face and it was Louis.
I was terrified, scared. I didn’t yell, I didn’t cry. I just laid there. I laid there next to my dead friend. Every night I regret not saving Alfonso. I fell ill over the past few weeks. I was ill in the heart. I’m broken, I am lost.
After their deaths, Iver and Attakullakulla were awarded the Medal of Honor and Iver’s journal was published, called ‘Lost Love’. This journal won many awards and was release in French, English and Onyota'aka.

Iver Love ~ 1751 - 1781
Attakullakulla(Alfonso) ~ 1753 - 1779