The village was ablaze, the crackling flames casting an eerie glow as Kofi stood at the edge, facing Thornhill, both of them battered and weary from their battles. Smoke billowed into the night sky blotting out the moon, and the scent of burning homes hung heavy in the air. Chaos reigned as villagers scrambled to salvage what they could and escape the inferno.

"Is this what you wanted, Thornhill?" Kofi's voice was hoarse, his eyes blazing with defiance as he stared down his nemesis. "Is this the cost of your freedom?"

Thornhill sneered, his eyes glittering with malice. "This is your fault, Kofi. Your rebellion ends here, tonight."

As they stood facing each other, weapons at the ready, memories assaulted Kofi's mind, and he was forced to reminisce about how it had all begun.

"It started with your greed, Thornhill," Kofi said, his voice filled with bitterness. "Your thirst for control and power, seeking to exploit our land and enslave our people. You thought we were weak, that you could control us but you were wrong."

Kofi's mind flashed back to his childhood, to the days of laughter and innocence, before the escape had shattered their peaceful existence. He remembered the cruelty and brutality inflicted upon his people, the injustices that had fueled his determination to fight back.

"From the moment you laid foot in Maroon Hill, you sowed the seeds of rebellion," Kofi continued, his eyes blazing with intensity. "We trained, we prepared, and we fought. We rose against you white folks' tyranny, united in our cause."

Thornhill scoffed, his expression filled with disdain. "A ragtag group of slaves and villagers? You were nothing but a nuisance."

Kofi's grip tightened on his cutlass, his mind unwavering but his heart conflicted. "We were more than that. We were a family, bound by our shared struggle for freedom."

Thornhill lunged forward, and the clash of their weapons echoed through the burning village. Kofi fought with all his strength, his movements fueled by the memories of his people's suffering, and the burning desire for a better future.

As the battle raged on, the flames around them grew higher, casting a surreal glow on the chaotic scene. Kofi and Thornhill circled each other, their blades clashing in the Kumina of death, their breaths, mere ragged gasps.

"You can't win, Kofi," Thornhill taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "Your rebellion is futile. Surrender now, and I may spare your life."

Kofi gritted his teeth, his heart pounding in his chest. He refused to back down, knowing that too much was at stake. The fate of his people hung in the balance, and he would fight to the end.

With a roar, Kofi launched a fierce attack, pushing Thornhill back. Their swords clashed with renewed ferocity, sparks flying in the air. The battle seemed endless, each of them pushing themselves to their limits. As Kofi lounges into Thornhill, he slips deep into his subconscious. Memories, scenes that he spent yours burying, resurfaced like the many duppies he vanquished.

…

I moved stealthily through the dense foliage, my scrawny body allowing me to slip away unnoticed by the overseer as he scolded another slave. I was just a boy of twelve, small for my age, but quick on my feet with an almost unnaturally resilient body, hardened by the months spent working in the hot sun swinging a machete half my I always snuck away from the overseer at this time with the help of other slaves, who would intentionally get in trouble to create a distraction. I had to do this, as someone was waiting for me.

I was focused on avoiding detection as I made my way to the riverbank. It was the meeting spot, a secluded place where I could watch the water flow and speak to my mother like a normal family for once. We have been meeting like this for a while. But as fate would have it, I accidentally bumped into a tall boy who was sneaking glances at the women bathing in the river, can't blame him, if my mom wasn't waiting, I would be too.

Startled, I looked up to see a boy with piercing blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight, and blonde hair that shone like gold. He was fair-skinned and clean, unlike me, who was covered in sweat, dirt, and grime. Despite his well-groomed appearance, there was a mischievous glint in his eye that told me he was not all that different from me. He frowned at me, and I braced myself for his reprimand.

"Watch where you're going," he scolded, his voice carrying a tone of annoyance.

I mumbled an apology, my heart pounding in my chest. I couldn't afford to be caught sneaking away, especially by someone who could easily report me to the overseer. I was about to make a hasty retreat when the boy's expression softened.

"Sorry, I'm Thorn, want a look" he said, extending his hand and with a cheeky smile on his face.

I hesitated for a moment, wary of revealing my name to white folk. But there was something, an atmosphere about Thorn that intrigued me. He seemed genuinely curious, not threatening like the overseer or the other white folk that came to visit the plantation. No, they looked at us as if we were nothing, are nothing more than livestock and tools, but his eyes lacked that.

"I'm Kofi, maybe another time" I replied, finally shaking his hand tentatively.

Thorn nodded, his smile broadening. "Well, Kofi, you're quite tough for such a scrawny kid. What brings you here?"

I glanced around, making sure we were alone. "I come here to be alone," I replied vaguely, not wanting to reveal too much.

Thorn studied me for a moment, as if trying to decipher my motives. "Fair enough," he said, nodding again. "I like to come here too; the view is immaculate."

"Enjoy yourself, I have to go."

With that, I turned and hurried away, feeling a mix of apprehension and curiosity. Thorn was unlike any other white person I had encountered on the plantation, and I couldn't help but wonder what his true motives were.

As I reached the riverbank, I spotted my mother sitting on a nearby rock, her eyes fixed on the water. I hurried over to her, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.

"Kofi, my son," she said, looking up and smiling warmly at me. "You made it."

I nodded, sitting down beside her. "Yes, sorry I'm late. I ran into someone on the way here."

"Who did you run into?" she asked, looking at me with concern.

"It was nobody, Ma," I said quickly, not wanting her to worry. "Just a white boy who was curious about why I was here."

My mother looked at me skeptically, but she could tell I didn't want to press the issue. Instead, she drew me closer and began to play with my hair, a habit she had developed when I was a baby. It was comforting and familiar, and for a moment, I forgot about all my troubles.

As she ran her fingers through my unruly curls, I asked her a question that had been weighing on my mind for some time.

"Ma, why is my hair different from the other slaves?" I asked, my voice in broken whispers.

My mother paused for a moment before answering, her eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and contempt.

His mother smiled softly and pulled him closer, playing with his hair as she spoke. "Your hair is different because you come from a proud people, far across the distant ocean," she said. "They have hair like yours, and were kings and queens who ruled over vast empires. It is a symbol of their power." She spoke as if trying to convince herself rather than me.

Kofi looked at her, still unsure. "But why did the other children never want to play with me and the adults avoided me like I have the ague" he asked, feeling a sense of unease.

His mother's expression turned serious, and she looked deep into his eyes. "People stare because they don't understand, my son," she said. "But you are not defined by what they think or say. You are your own person, with your own thoughts and dreams. Don't let anyone make you feel inferior because of the way you look or where you come from. People don't like different, they fear it. However different is not always bad. Plus, you have Olou."

I listened intently, mesmerized by her words, feeling a sense of comfort and reassurance. I knew that life on the plantation would never be easy, but I also knew that I had his mother's love and support. With her by my side, I felt like I could face anything that came his way

She continued, "Speaking of Olou give him this message "the time is near".