My father, James, was raised in this home. It was built by his Great-Great-Great grandfather. My mother and he inherited it when his father died in 1830. Then I was born in 1846. My mother died when I was 2. Father never told me exactly how, but she was sick. I don't have any memories of her really. I have one of her on a swing on one of the trees. She was laughing and swinging. The sun was about to go down and it was a light orange color all around. That's all I remember. I was too young when she died. Rather sad if you ask me.
Well as you may have guessed, my name is Annabelle Roberts. I am currently 17. Of course it's only 1863 and I have a few years ahead of me. I don't do any work on my father's plantation. He insists on having slaves. Of course there's the war going on right now. He insists on keeping them, even if they make it illegal. But I don't agree. In fact, I am part of the Underground Railroad. In the beginning we had about 15 slaves. I have helped 5 to safety and the rest are soon to be gone. Papa is probably beginning to suspect something is amis, but he'd suspect someone else before his own daughter. At least I pray he will...
Well, the sun is beginning to set. Shall we go inside?
