The Death Of The Night Essay
I was born in a canebrake in the Bayous of Southern Louisiana during a pre-harvest burn; it was the fall of 1814. My mother was a Quadroon slave named Anastasia, my father, the wealthy plantation owner who owned her. He knew nothing of my birth at first.
On the night I was born, another child died. Born the same instant, she took one small breath and then she was gone. I came out kicking and screaming ready to take on the world. I must have known that my row would be a tough one to hoe and that I would have to fight if I were to survive.
Ma mère, Anastasia de Comte, was caught au dépourvu. She was unaware her time was so near. She was spreading fire through the cane fields when her fluid broke. She said it spewed forth as a river that had broken through the levee and flooded the land with bloody water that sizzled and come to a boil before it soaked into the dry, scorched earth.
I was never fond of the name Desirée Evereld de Comte. However, I was born with it, the name fused with my body at birth. Chosen by my birth mother, christened by the parish priest with my white father and mother in attendance, they were already looking ahead…