Chains by Laurie Halse Anderson Original Poems Fanfiction

My feet pounded the hard ground

I ran from Mr. Robert Finch

From Old Ben

From Pastor Weeks

From Ruth

I had to see Momma’s Grave

The Ghosts were most active at Dawn.

Momma Didn’t come

Dinah,

Wife of Cuffe,

Mother of Isabel and Ruth stayed buried

Under the ground

I didn’t know

How I would become Free

Pastor Weeks didn’t help

Ruth couldn’t help

Momma couldn’t help

Mr. Robert Finch wouldn’t help

I didn’t bother asking.

Instead Ruth and I were sold

To Anne and Elihu Lockton

In New York.

We were supposed to be free.

Master’s the head of house

He tells Mistress what to do

To stay out of his way

Or look good ‘cause company’s comin’.

Mistress is in charge of Becky, Ruth, and I.

She tells us to make rolls or sweep the hearth.

Becky’s in charge of Ruth and me.

She’s the boss lady

Who gets paid for her work.

Curzon is the neighbor

He says the Lockton’s are loyalists

He wants me to spy for the patriots.

Ruth and I are slaves.

Just slaves.

Bound by chains.

For Eternity.

They’ll give money

and land

to the people

who switch sides.

Curzon should know

It could set you free.

You could get caught

or be set free.

Just take the leap.

Tell him.

They’ll find the money

and you’ll be free.

A list of names

In the library desk

Written evidence

to take to the Colonel

Then they’ll know

You tell the truth

Washington will live

We’ll win the war

And a small slave girl called Isabel

And a small slave girl called Ruth

Will be set free

From the tight

Bonding

Chains.

Ruth, my baby sister, works

Upstairs by Madam’s side. Until she has a fit.

The child’s body shake, Becky Screams. Only

Heaven can save us from Madam’s wrath.

Ruth sold.

Nevis is too far.

I run.

My feet pounding the hard ground

makes me think of the time I ran to Momma’s grave

But this time, I’m running away

I’ll join the Rebels

I gave them information

Maybe they can take me?

Madam comes

I’m taken away

to get branded

I for insolence

But I’m sick

Too sick

Everything

goes

black.

A cup of cool liquid

To my lips

Lady Seymour

nourishes me

back

to

health.

But then there’s Ruth

Far away in the islands

I still must go there

but she’s so

far

away.

I recover

and Return to the Lockton’s

But must return

to Lady Seymour’s

to help

with her

chores

and the men she hosts.

It’s hard work.

But it’s not under Madam.

So it’s okay.

And then there is Ruth.

Ruth.

Ruth.

Bound in Chains.

Just like me,

only without me.

Coughing up ashes

Flames outside

FIRE!

I hurry downstairs

from the stuffy attic

as smoke floods my lungs

Lady Seymour pulls at a trunk

“We have to leave!” I tell her

But she must have these keepsakes.

And we must have our lives

I grab some things out

And pull her down

the murky stairwell

to the front door

It’s hot.

But this is life.

We must leave

to the Locktons.

Where there are chains.

Keeping me from Ruth.

There is battle

And as I walk along the street

I see a boy

with a red hat

looking down

escorted

by

prison

guards.

His name is Curzon.

And he has been bound by chains.

At the Locktons

Lady Seymour becomes sick

inches from death

and then a mile away.

At the Bridewell prison

Curzon becomes sick

inches from death

Never a mile away.

I take food

Table scraps.

Feed the prisoners

Keep them from death

Bring them a few more

inches

away.

I move messages

Secretly

for the rebels

Madam doesn’t know

but people know

that I’m the one visiting Bridewell Prison

That, the insolence shows

I arrive in a potato cellar

when Madam finds out

And I throw the message into

the fires licking flames.

I yank up wet boards

and dig my way out

It’s the only way to freedom

Out of my chains.

The prison is dark

The guards are drowsy

I push a wheelbarrow

It feels heavy

To my clammy hands

I shake

As I walk into Curzon’s cell

His chest rises and falls

“You’re dead” I whisper in his ear

And load him into the wheelbarrow

I push as hard as I can

Slamming the cell door

We get a boat

And splash silently into the river

I get a drink

And cup my hands

to give Curzon

one

We silently glide through the water

Fireworks erupt above our heads

Blisters pop on my hands

It aches.

But in the distance

I see the New Jersey shoreline

The boat stops abruptly

We’re Free.