THE DEATH FIGHT OF LILLITH & EVE - Louisiana 1852
by Dr. Rudrah Subrahmin, the Department of Perversity in Antiquity, Arkham University, Massachusetts
[WARNING: Language appropriate to the Era and Cruel Bigotry of the Times are employed
and do not reflect the attitudes of the writer or this Content Provider.]
From the good Reverend?s Prayer before the carrying out of The Judgement:
It is but God?s Will that these two women who have raised their eyes in rebellion
against both their Master in the House, and their Master in Heaven,
engage in a Trial by Kombat by which, stripped, whipped and made to vie
with tooth and claw and, (without mercy from us, or pity from the other woman),
suffer of each other a war unto the death, in which,
by this beast-like Contest of Sinful Flesh against Sinful Flesh,
we Good Men, (who hath judged them), shall bear witness to the True Will of Heaven!
Yea, verily verily, I say to you - of the two thrown down in the dust,
ONE MUST DIE! Why?? Severe justice is beauteous in the hard eyes of Heaven.
May the n***er girl Nellie, and the white stray Francis-Christine, God willing,
fight, naked, and to the Death. Nay, that be not enough
May they MURDER EACH OTHER for our righteous enthusiasm and Christian edification,
and then both BURN IN HELL FOR THE OTHER WHORE?S MURDER!
Praise Heaven. Now bring the bitches in...
My father was not an easy man. But as much as he was a beaten man, he was not broken. He would come home to this our mansion and, leaving his boots by the door, go into the bedroom on the second floor, shut the door, and my hard-working mama would leave a tray, a real silver tray from France, by the door with a measure of liquor and as much of a meal that she could put on the dish, a real dish from the land of China-men. She would have polished those silver-plated forks and spoons with her apron. So let me tell you about our family mansion, the place I growd up, and one day will leave to my chillen. Have you seen those pictures on those mailing cards they paint in France of Pyramids, the Colosseum, whores on Gin Street, London, boxers, musicians with violins, circus beasts, and even our fine Southern Mansions. But they not all big?uns like those where I come from. You seen pictures of the fine King of England's London? Them etchings taken as it sat on an eagle? The big streets of called avenues and the little streets go off into the land of the poor and get scribbled a child spiderweb. The swamps here are every bit as thick is the London Fog, and a little ways away from everything, between the heaps of root beneath the serpent-swaddled and hanging boughs. Our ways are as crooked and as full of darkness as any of them.
My daddy?s mansion is built on a rise in the waters, as was the earth and waters made separate on the First Day of Creation. Less than an eighth of an acre in Dominion. It has three rooms on the ground floor and the sleeping rooms set on the second floor above them. Except the parlor front room, no room is much bigger than 10 by 10 - albeit, that may be a bit of exaggeration. It's front and back, kitchen behind the parlor and a side room beside the kitchen big enough to hold a spinning wheel and sundry. Up the stairs, it's three little bedrooms and a closet. The privy is outback by the midden, and the shower is an enamel bucket big enough for a 10-year-old girl. We drag that in beside the stove for bathing. Yes. We have a pretty covered walk around about the house for a promenade, and two fine white pillars grace the extension on the roof beside the simple stairs. It was painted once, and now has moss and grace in listing like a schooner on a bar. What I'm saying is, my family place is a place good enough for a white Christian family, who owns their own brace of slaves, taken fair care of birth to grave, and there's nothing here that's not poor nor proud.
My sister is not mentioned. She is as we folks say, ?dead to me?. She was as fine as a New Orleans kept-lady, near tall as me at 5 foot 7, weighing maybe 125, and her flesh hangs like the ripe fruit of the Garden of Eden, and I swear this, her breasts are like sun warmed melons, and her legs as befit a lady born to step down from carriages arriving for a Ball. Her hair is of Raven, and it falls about to her narrow waist. But now her slender white arms, they carry rings of iron, for she lives down in our root cellar, chained amongst soot blacked blocks and chained with blued iron chains, and will so remain un till my Daddy hears from the Bible for sure what he should do.
My daddy is a hard man, but he is fair. He had me bury the black bastard that seduced her, so he would not have the hatred he held in his heart look down on that box, down in the ground, still waiting for God's judgment to judge the boy. For my Daddy he would not be so proud as to dare rival the fury set by The Good Book aside to the Lord. But all is not dismal, as they say ?those who still have the strength to believe, the Angels still have the strength to save?. So thanks to the bank who owned our paper, the Banker reached out like any Christian should, and offered a chance for redemption to our poor house and home. For if my Daddy but put his daughter's life into the Banker?s hands, the Bank Manager would forgive our crushing loan. And this alone put my father beyond the act of murder, for honor?s sake taking Francis-Christine's throat from his hard strong hands and passing them by an honest act of exchange into another?s more sober charge. Thank?s to this Christian Act of Worldly wisdom, her blood would be as a swatch of paint upon our front door, and shame like a plague could pass by without the stain of my father killing his own child to clear our Family Name.
Now the Banker?s name was Wheelright, and he was the third if not the fourth to proudly wear that name in the county in which I have always lived my life, and look forward to remain. He was a man who well liked his sporting. And what sport is without a spot of blood? He owned a slave, one or two, (if the word mandingo mean anything to you). Yes he did, he kept a brace of fine fierce bucks, well wrought black beasts he kept just for the picnics he had on his land, when parents went home from church leave and their children at Sunday school. What I'm saying is men would gather in the barn in which he kept his thoroughbred collection. Thence they?d make as circle of chairs around the pen in which his horseflesh would be walked each morning. And folding tables would be placed conveniently around. Even the parish priest and his worthless brother would hasten from the shadow of the steeple to come around. For they had some fine dog and cockfights staged here every Sunday, and once a month they?d bring in some black boys to stir them up with sport and passion. And sipping whiskey, would stamp their boots for their favourites. Wagering on whichever bloody battle their boot-toes all were pointed at, singing ?slap them thighs and pass that bottle round!?
Now judgment is the Lord?s, and the Lord?s alone. But the Lord made creation from a thought cast out from his brow, like a harpoon at a whale from a mighty whaler?s bow. And there is not a leaf that trembles that does not wait for him to bid it tumble to the ground. This means, the Lord who moves the starry Heaven, also reaches out an arm with finger pointed, moven as chess-pieces in a chess-battle, the boys and girls who would be in that dirt fighting, fighting to a conclusion such as the Lord had judged fair and sound. So, even this blood sport, hard sport, sport as hard as suits a hard folk like our corner of creation, (if you but know to read between the lines of Judges, Leviticus and Revelation), you know such judgment and such ways may indeed be mysterious, but are ways and means well-founded in the lot Earth has earned by Eve?s weak flesh and female treason. And it is into this apt reception to justice that my sister Frances-Christine would be led by myself, my daddy?s son, after breakfast this Sunday morning to meet the slave-bitch that that lawyer had kept warm like a card in his vest pocket, kept warm next to he is beating heart, for just such an occasion as this he'd found. For my fair sister would walk to meet this black harlot in a trial by mortal combat below the hard and judging eyes of an all-knowing Heaven. Rare are these death matches between black women, and well neigh unheard of is one in which one bitch has a white skin. Yet, to be frank, two white girls had been known to fight and fall within this sport more common to men. I have seen several such and knew the cruel work that would be done.
And I know that the black man suffers baptism, (for whatever good such a ritual could do him). And I know black folks sing those hymns they love with doglike enthusiasm. But that Nellie is one lucky colored house-girl - first because the Sheriff fancies Nellie, and second, because he likes to make his bets. You see, for this reason of his dark passion did the Sheriff say he'd take that girl Nellie and her black buck ?so-called? husband off the Banker if she would but deliver God's judgement on that wayward female Christian. Hell, the way most local folks would see it, and I sees it just the same, such a death might soften Heaven?s judgement, and leave the door cracked for her soul to join her stillborn sister's up in the land promised for those who deserved up there to dwell.
Now Nellie she was a black as an eggplant black girl, well ripened and well worth keeping to breed and to proffer her owner some well received private consolation. And at 5 foot 6 and 140 pounds of right ripe negro plenitude, if Francis-Christine's white breasts were as cantaloupes, swollen as they hung from her ribs, with full pink nipples and wide aureolas, then Nellie?s pendulous ebony bosom were as those melons called honeydew, with red brown nipples and areola still wider, ripened to busting under our fine Southern Sun. Where Francis-Christine's flesh was white as cream, cream as rich as if poured out of the full moon, then Nellie's skin was as well oiled horsehide, and her limbs glowed like the red earth well warmed by the sun under which she?d bent picking cotton many a long hot afternoon.
Halfway out of the swamp, my prisoner and I arrive at the dock, at which, when our small boat was tethered, the mayors trap proved to be in wait. In wait for us to take to that farmhouse and the barn in which Francis-Christine and Nellie would be stripped naked, pushed together, and the roar of blood-riled Southern men, like the fire of cannons on all sides of them, they would do battle to the death like bitch dogs down upon that killing ground. Both girls knew there would be no mercy, no rounds as are fought by gentlemen. Both had betrayed the social contract that bond men's lives to heaven, and thus were obliged to do each other carnage. They had fallen to the station of beasts, and in that place of red-meat and broken-bones of battle, those two 18-year-old girls would fight with fist and all their might until the better bitch was proven, and one girl lay spread out, lifeless on the ground!
The walking-pen was in the largest of the barns, and at the angle of ?L?, at their convergence, opened in the back out to the garden were tables were found, and people from miles around. Rich and poor had come here together, menfolk I mean, to watch these two girls being introduced, nose to nose like fighting dogs, then pulled back a ways by their neck, to then be turned loose to do each other as evil they were able, wagers, clapping and cursing and from the first blood as one rolling thunder until, at that death-rattle for which all would silence themselves to hear, as that last spasm took the Loser, sooner then the Winner, to that table prepared for them in Hell!
It was hot as a Baker's oven, with the sun outside, and the hot, salty sweat of maybe 60 men all gathered round within, in a ruddy and wet heat as thick as that found in a glass hot-house for orchids, or maybe even in a womb. There were no chairs for this chicken dinner, and only the well-bred and well-muscled struggled to the front of that open place made of dirt, maybe 37 feet all around. The roof doors were lashed back and sunlight lit the center, leaving the rest to deep red shadows and tobacco smoke thick as that in a war of cannons. Oh, this barn when appointed to serve as a Circus and Arena was always a parlor to perdition, but here today in hot anticipation a fire was being stoked to burn all the passions that go with our deep red blood into a firestorm of hollers and exultation that will be heard for miles around.
The Mayor nodded, and folded his hands upon the falcon brass pommel of his walking stick. I led Frances-Christine along the path made for us by these men and the Sheriff accepted the key my father to me entrusted, and removes the white girl?s shackles, to let them fall upon the ground. She'd either walk away a free woman, or would be carried off by such dark kin as whose favor she had demonstrated preference, when she chose amongst them a lover, and added disaster to our Family Name. Her simple white shift was torn from her shoulders as her hands crossed before her shame, and breasts were taken deeply at the size and beauty of her bosom, heart beating visible in the shimmer of her left breast. Then the Sheriff coughed to stifle a groan of passion. The silence deepened, and as Moses parted the Red Sea, the good Christians parted on the other side of the ?fight pit?, and through that passage the pagan Nubian was led to face my sister, already naked of cloth and pride.
All eyes looked to me and I know I had say a word in place of my father, so I said, looking at that voluptuous jungle Princess Nellie, my eye traveling from her black lion's mane of tangled hair down past that jungle patch at her bellies nape and down her legs, ?I find her sound, and see her as being equal in size so as a sporting chance at justice in a fair and unarmed fight with my sister Francis-Christine.? So saying, as they broke the shackles off the black girl, I let go my sister's hand and stepped back. But there was a hush because I had said my sister?s Christian Name and Family Name in one breath together, before our Family Name had been cleared by this battle to the death. My ignorance of right ways was however voiced not in disrespect, but in youthful innocence, so my words were accepted as intended.
Then the Banker tapped the colored girl on the shoulder and addressed the crowd. ?My girl, Nellie, was good until she proved herself no good! By her lowered eyes you can see she knows she's wronged her keep. She has no disease to leave the stain upon that white girl you're looking at now, and once the blood has ceased to flow for one or the other of these, she will not be marked by punishment beyond the scars and memory she will carry from this day. But as I am an honest man, I have to say by way of due diligence, that I have been a wagering man from the day of my majority, and that I look here today to see the finest battle of female flesh ever on this Continent, and not just Louisiana or New Orleans!?
Yes, at these hot words the crowd did roar, and the front row, the Banker and myself included, stepped back a pace and a half, leaving the two naked girls to face each other within this duly consecrated ring of death.
My sister Francis-Christine?s breasts rose and fell evenly as she began to take deeper and deeper breaths, her firm belly muscles tightening as she spread her bare feet out wide, like a wrestler, recalling her youth as a Tom Boy that feared no girl nor backed down from any boy, no doubt. Taking after a French uncle on her mother?s side in lithe muscle of limb, I prayed that she inherited some of his dock worker?s temper and inborn knowledge of the French Style of combat from him. For her sake. For mine, I was glad she had always found it enough to win a wrestle with a pin. Her huge green eyes glistened like an Emerald passed in front of a candle flame. Knowing the Bible as we all did, (and those further books passed down hand to hand), I suspect Francis-Christine saw herself as Eve confronting Lilith just outside the newly condemned Garden, before being led by an Angel out into the wilderness with her man Adam. Because those books, books that did not make the Common Bible, talk of things that books don?t, out of modesty speak to children - we have to turn to rare books of the ?larger? Word of God to read - read of the making even of the score of Eve with Lilith, who had sore tempted the good heart of her man. For it was to compete with the wiles of Lilith that Eve thought to bring Adam the gift of the Forbidden Fruit. And so, with a battle as such as the Lord and the angel Michael had with the Nephilim, so too, did Eve wage righteous war on Lilith upon that hot and desert sand. And when both had torn at each the other like a female tiger and a female lion, for an hour, at the end, Eve left Lilith, from breasts to cunt laid open, her eyes plucked as if by crows already - yea and yea? the Queen of demons, Lilith, upon that desert dead lay. And blood-baptized did Eve, a female victor, go to stand. Stand beside her man!
So as Eve confronting Lilith so did my haughty sister Francis-Christine go naked forward with her bare feet stepping evenly, to do battle with this bitch cow, a faint smile of some kind of madness spread downward from her brow. But this ?Lilith? Nellie raised her face like a female lion, no shame to be found. This sneer spread across her wide high cheek boned face and she bared her teeth like the ebony bitch she surely was.
Unexpected by me, the two naked big breasted girls, (salt and pepper for sure!), stopped and waited when but two paces each from the other. They waited as if they knew some rule such boys as I ain?t been taught in school. To look at them, I figured they both knew a lot I had forgot and more would never learn. These two young woman had already tangled with the World and had been wrestled to the ground.
Silence filled the rising smoke and heat swam past our faces like snakes you couldn't see. Their noble breasts rose and fell evenly as, slowly, slowly, both women raises their elbows to the level of bottom of their naked ribs, and of their gentle woman's hands made fists that surely now lay as hard as the iron heads up on the handles of oak hard men swing to drive deep spikes. Yes, their fists and their faces each had the expression of a woman who had come to this place to fight to the death, to kill, for that was their mutual decision. They had both left, on entering this property, behind their childhood, and all politics and any hope from religion. Nellie and Francis-Christine were two naked, long limbed, big breasted 18-year-old Amazons. One black as night, one Christian. I know you say fine gentle ladies glow after some recreation in a flower garden. But these two strong smelling female bodies streamed with sweat from their cheeks down over their bosom and bellies down their legs onto their toes. No finer examples of female flesh were ever, ever put to face each other in a fight to the death , even in the famous Coliseum in the hay day of ancient Pagan Rome!
The Banker who knew his place, as none else did in this room, rose and raised his bare white hands and gave a little clap, a single slap, soft and clear that sounded in all the room. BOOM! Nellie exploded like a Mustang out of a corral, bucking and racing forward, shoulders lowered to catch the white bitch in the belly, to bowl her on her back, so she could deliver such punches as would crush the white girls skull! It was not her day for easy battle, for being a French bred girl Francis-Christine dropped, twisted and delivered a blow with a leg that unfolded like a Billy goat?s, and caught the black girl on the sternum between her wildly swinging pendulous globes of breast. Thus stopped mid-step, Nelly dropped to one knee, arms whipping out to snatch the leg that struck her, but my sister was in in instant two strides distant, a twinkle in an eye of shining green?
Nellie just threw her fine blackface back and showed the room how fine her smile and loud her laugh was, as shaking off her fall with find good nature, she got back to her feet, and with the fingers of her right hand bid the white girl show her another such pugilistic prodigy.
Not one for hesitation, (or apology), my sister made a circle counterclockwise winding in, measuring the black bitch with her eyes all concentration. Nellie just nodded, as if a pirate that had walked this plank before, turning in place with her fists up to her now hard and joyless face. But by looking you could see her full black tummy was tightened and bunched up back to her guts, knowing full well how hard that hard white foot was, and expected of it much.
It was as if I glanced up at a up weight driven clock and saw the secondhand click. BANG! The bitches roared together, like mountain goats in collision. All the fury and frustration poured as the muscle and energy in a boxer?s delivery of a blow, from each of them, down at the toe up through their ripe full breasted bodies as in a single well muscled motion, through their shoulder and out their own arm to a fist delivered upon a bare breast or a jaw. They slugged it out like prizefighters, dancing up the dust! My sister Francis-Christine tapped out a circle in the dirt like a weaver's wheel constantly darting in with a kick or a punch that made the black bitch wince or flinch, and then back out before the roundhouse sledgehammer blow that might shatter her jaw or snap a rib. For a full minute she made be circles around Nellie as if the colored girl were a flower, and my sister, she a bee.
Then Nellie roared to grab my sister by the shoulders which she did, but my sister dropped onto her ass and delivered such a kick with the heel of her bare left foot that it cracked the black girl?s pubic bone! Eyes squinted in streaming tears with pain hard to laugh off, Nellie screamed to vent that selfsame pain, snapping her hands together fast enough to catch the ankle twixt her black thighs, and yanked the leg dancing backwards dragging my naked white sister through the course and hoof-beaten dirt. My sister thrashed left and right but, alas, could not liberate her captured foot. When almost backed up to the circle of men, Nellie stopped and leaned in, dropping to her right knee, her wet black torso folding my sister's left leg right down to her chest. Then grabbing Francis-Christine by the ankle with her left hand, snarling she delivered three mighty right fist blows upon my sister's pretty head. My sister's eyes all but crossed as she twisted like a hellcat, yanking her head away from the descending fist, but all the blows marked their spot, down from her forehead along the left side of her face to the jaw, dark blotches forming on her forehead, temple and jaw as if Nellie had impressed some of her black color in my sister?s soft white Christian flesh.
But so inconveniently curled as was she, Francis-Christine was still well placed and able to thrust her free foot between the black girls arms up into her jaw, delivering a blow with her bare white heel as mighty as could the black girl with her field slave?s strong right arm. This crossed the black girls eyes, tit for tat, making tears stream down her jet black face as she stood, still hanging onto my sister's leg, with a hold loosened, so my sister's sweat slick ankle was able to slip free, and rolling, my sister leapt back to her feet, shaking her head to clear it, snapping Raven hair in both directions as Nellie, her yellow eyes squinted with mean and ugly, turned like a turret with two cannon at my sister?s beam, her blood ablaze to set flint to that powder and fire!
Francis-Christine, her countenance was contorted out of pretty, into a mask painted with a taste for death impassioned, her own wet globes of cream white milk-meat flapping from side to side as she danced back to the fray! Face set like a barbarian intent on the murder of her supper, Nellie waded into my sister's attack with eyes wide open and a lowered brow and those commenced these two women to explaining the sweet Science of one man killing another man with his bare fists to each other - punching with their well muscled pumping piston arms and and finally turned long legs, dancing in a dance of death that turned them in a circle slowly so all concerned could see how fine their backs and round buttocks were, washed in sweat as now their faces streamed with blood, both girl?s noses broken, red blood squirting in little geysers from their nostrils as each girl beat the other?s lips back and forth across their jaws and teeth, so those self-same teeth cut into the lips that sheathed them, making blood pour out their mouths as if each were a cup of wine being poured upon their wildly bouncing breasts. Like two angry animals these two fulsome girls were fighting, naked, and to the death!
Nellie kept an eye out, shy of another kick, and Francis-Christine knew to bounce a knee, first left and right, then mixed up, to keep the black bitch off-balance, guessing, not really ever risking a wheel kick as such as you see in men savate fighting. Nellie was for sure strong enough to grab a leg about the calf, and with a twist, snap the bone between the knee and hip. The white girl well knew this. But she also knew she had to mount a blow equal to the big breasted black girl bearing down like a big brown bear upon an unattended cradle! Nellie had her own black hair long in kinky wet with sweat, and it was that that struck a blow for my sister before my sister made another meaning-carrying punch. For that black hair had been tied up with a straying above her head, and that string broke with a snap of Nellie's face in response to a bare-knuckle undercut. This unloosed a dram of salty perspiration that rushed into both the black girl big black eyes - her bad black luck! Wincing, Nellie was unable not to blink and squint, and in this tiny window my lovely long limbed white sister Frances-Christine launched her body like a javelin, swinging her left fist up to knock the black girls jaw slightly towards the sky, and with her right fist drove a cannonball knuckle-sandwich to the center of black girl Nellie's throat! Eyes bugging out like an unkind London newspaper cartoon of things down South in ?the colonies?, the wounded black girl staggered back, not out of balance, but involuntarily rubbing her throat waving her free fist in front of her to prevent a further attack.
But this did not stop my sister from that wheel-kick she had in her back pocket, dropping as she rushed forward to one haunch, and swinging a foot that folded Nellie?s right knee, and Nellie folded backwards midair consequently. But before the big black girl?s shoulders hit the dirt, Francis-Christine leapt between the black girl?s widespread legs up into the air, and down she brought her heels together that, as she dropped, exploded from straightened legs together into the center of Nellie's sternum between her heaving wildly rolling mounds of hot black breast. CRACK. The whole room heard the crack. It was a bit louder then the fracture to the pubic bone. This pain made Nellie hack, handsome face twisted in a grimace of hard to deal with pain. And not thinking rolled onto her hands and knees. Francis-Christine was on her back like a leopard on a forest pig, her long strong white arms wrapped around that black woman's head and neck to give it a strong neck-snapping twist! But that big breasted black woman was having none of this. Putting up one foot then the other she dragged my sister up as she stood up on her feet, and then pitched herself onto her back, crushing my sister into the dirt. Ah, shucks!
This knocked out my sister's breath with a whoosh, as to her turn with misfortune the naked black woman on her twisted to trap her with a pin! But fast-as-a-snap my sister got her knees up into the other's belly as Nellie flipped over face down, throwing her black legs and arms out on either side of my sister. Face shaking with an effort such as Samson?s to bring down that Temple, Francis-Christine pushed up with all her might so her beautiful white ass was hoisted as if by a strap up in the air, raising the black woman onto her knees who then thrust her arms down with her fingers wide open to tear upon my sister's head, but yanked out only clumps of jet black hair instead. My sister thrust her fists inside the black woman's elbows, folding them, sapping them of momentum and power, then, reaching up with her left hand with a stretch, my sister drove her fingers in the wet snarls of the black woman's hair and yanked her head down hard, driving the two straightened fingers of her right hand right through the pupil of Nellie's big left eye! The eyeball exploded, busted as my sister's fingers drove to the second knuckle in the eye socket. Eyeball jelly and blood spread out from black forehead and cheek. But accustomed to the whip and the expectation of death, Nellie could, (my God!), take this agony, and punched down into my sister?s fat white left breast, knuckles driving down to the rib cage, and cracking two of my sister?s ribs, just like that! Francis-Christine screamed like a riverboat blowing its whistle, and drove the straightened fingers of both hands into the black woman's exposed wet armpits, making the nerves bunched there explode into pain. Nellie began hollering again, elbows slap down to her sides, fists out, but in the saddle remained!
Desperate, the white girl twisted and and drove her right heel into the black girls left armpit while rolling to her right, dislodging Nellie, and while the other girl?s hip was raised, rolled like a weasel in the other direction making good her fast escape!
Nellie got to both knees and then, her bare black feet, blood pouring from her face - her face some Jungle mask of demon hate, big breasts bouncing she strode as wildly as a drunk man towards my sister, who panted, sweating on every part of her torso and limb, gasping for air into her lungs, green eyes wide with wild calculation. Of course the crowd by now had divided in their lust for blood and chance for post-fight copulation, and were raging like a high North Sea with lightning and waves of passion! Many would have been glad to copulate with whichever which one as long as they had the joy of seeing the death spasms of the other one!
Nellie grinned with a grimace, blood pouring from her nose and mouth, as she knew her power, power in the belly for fucking or for killing. This field-slave knew well the joy of both these bestial occupations, for this was not her first time carrying wagers on her fine black back! This white bitch was going to be torn as a bird nest full of eggs by a hungry cat!
What is this? The white girl halted her retreat, expression altered, and ,(Lord!), exploded towards her. Dumbfounded, Nellie, grateful for the opportunity, grabbed the white hell-cat by the shoulders hard to hold her, ready to bear-hug her rib cage into collapsing like a bird cage, but she served only to brace my sister steady as her hard white knee drove up between those black thighs to her surprise, to finish doing to her fractured pubic-bone what the first blow had just begun. Nellie?s pubic bone cracked and was staved in in. Nellie dragged her ten fingernails down Francis-Christine's arms, leaving deep bloody furrows down the length of them, white skin curling under her fingernails. Yet her head was shaking so fast and hard her eyes couldn't focus on the white girl doubled right before her! Suddenly the world turned in a circle! Francis-Christine had dropped and turned, grasping the black girl?s waist, rolling her with a hip throw down, down onto her back upon the ground.
THUMP! Nelly hit the ground. Whack! Whack! Whack! Three times the white girls bare white heel slammed down in her throat so hard her larynx itself caved in! Now Nellie's hands slapped to her throat as if she was trying herself to strangle. Her long black legs kicked as if she was trying to push herself out of the circle.
But, what?s this? Francis-Christine is suddenly below her, grabbing both of her ankles, and with a twist rolled Nellie, gagging onto her belly. But before the big breasted black woman was able to get to her knees, Francis-Christine landed on her back wrapping her white arms around her head and neck. And with her big white breasts pressed pillowed into the black girl?s wet shoulders, with all her might, my sister wrenched Nellie's head around so the black woman?s shocked grimace, in but an instant, faced straight back at her murderer! The vertebrae SNAP was like a rifle shot - a brutal CRACK of Nellie?s spine at where the neck joined the back. Nellie?s one good eye went lifeless, and she slumped, limp of limb and shining with he grease of gore, dropped onto that blood caked dirt like a sack of rags.
What man or woman is without sin? If they are so cursed, they are also without passion. My sister Francis-Christine, beyond all bets and expectation, had survived this animal confrontation. Gasping, plastered with blood and dirt and sweat on face and torso and every limb, staggering, her weeping emerald eyes streaming with tears borne of relief. My brave sister, more steady with every step walked back to me and with dignity, stood beside me, her eyes sweeping from left to right in an even evaluation of the crowd. The Banker cleared his throat, and said ?My safe?s been robbed!? Then broke into a phony grin. Yet, only the Sheriff did not smile with him. The rest of those attending, however, rose to the occasion, and with loud applause and laughter well reimbursed him.
A few men were handed money gathered from them all. Then, backs were slapped, and the mood of a Roman Arena was replaced by enthusiastic recitations, and the lighting of pipes and cigars as they all went out into the garden for refreshment and some fresh air for restoration.
I winced to hear my sister?s jagged breathing, for she had broken ribs behind both noble bosoms, as well as suffer mottles of green and purple fist marks from the nape of her neck all the way down her luscious torso to her diaphragm, and on down over the heaving swell of her wet tummy. I was given a blanket, (by someone remembering what it was to be a true Christian), so wrapping that blanket around her, I took my sister home with me.
Re: THE DEATH FIGHT OF LILLITH & EVE - Louisiana 1852
It was the finest battle on America, and may be the world. A banker is always right, and Mr. Wheelright was well right in his assumption. I regret that 164 years past, we are all compensating the Mr. Wheelrights of this world when, by their own doing, they lose their capital assets, though.Originally Posted by Ted Mark
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