The plantation was lined with mossy oaks, and for miles upon miles the tobacco and cotton popped out of the fields. The house was a typical southern Georgia mansion, beautiful and envied by many. We thought the place was just absolutely beautiful, easy on the eyes, fun to look at. There was a barn that seemed like it was supposed to be hidden but the attempt to hide it failed. It was about a half a mile behind the house near the fields. It looked suitable for horses or other livestock, but as per the usual southern plantation in our day, it was for slaves, not livestock. The man that owned this plantation was a typical southern gentleman, very popular among the townspeople. He was known to make friends with everyone and all of the ladies swooned over him because he was tough and nice at the same time, as well as being easy on the eyes, just like his mansion. Safe to say we all loved him. He had the best reputation among all of us, until we found out a little secret of his that he wished we didn’t know about.

It all started when he moved into his plantation about 8 years ago with his wife. His name was Avery, her name was Emily. They made a great couple and we saw them at church every Sunday. Occasionally a few of the men from our town would see him at the slave trade, purchasing slaves, but only the best, which was normal. He started really growing on us and before we knew it a good handful of the townspeople would be at his house every hour of the day. He could tell the best jokes, and he knew how to make you feel like every word you said had importance to him. He was respected and looked up to, and he had confidence, but was never too arrogant. He always seemed to treat his wife right, or even more than right. He was just an all around great guy.

As the years went by, some of us would see him at the slave trade very often; way too often to be normal. We didn’t think much of it, because we loved him and didn’t think he was capable of being corrupt. His behavior around us just got better and better, and nothing seemed wrong.

One day, while a few of us were at his plantation, we heard a gun shot out back. Two of the men that were visiting went out too see what had happened, and everything seemed to be normal. The only weird thing was that we couldn’t find Avery. We sent men looking for him on horseback throughout all of his property, and finally, after searching all night, we had found him. We weren’t expecting to find out what we did, and we definitely didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence was right before our eyes. One of the men who had set out to find Avery found him on the very end of his property, seemingly burying bodies. Slave bodies. Not just one, but many. As soon as Avery was caught, he immediately rode off on his horse and we haven’t seen him since. We went back to the slave’s quarters and talked to the slaves that were left, asking them what had happened. They told us that one tried to escape, so Avery had killed his friends brutally in front of him, and then proceeded to kill the runaway slave. He had been doing this to all of the runaway slaves for a while now.