Inheritance

Since last week’s Pegman prompt was in a devastated part of West Virginia, our host decided we deserved a vacation on the lovely island of Mauritius. I looked at countrysides and ocean fronts and finally stumbled upon this drawing. When adding the picture to my post, I accidentally pasted it twice, side-by-side. The scene reminded me of an old stereoscope picture. So, I turned the offer of a fun light-hearted vacation into a bleak 150-word story. Sorry, Pegman.

 

Jacques-Henri peered through the stereoscope’s two prismatic lenses. After a long moment, the pictures morphed into a single, three-dimensional scene.
“You say this is Father’s land in Mauritius?”
“Indeed, sir. Acquired the property October 21st, 1810 along with the one-hundred-twenty slaves working the cane fields. Quite lucrative.”
“So all this is mine now, including the slaves?”
“Not exactly.”
“Not exactly?”
“You see, the slaves were freed in 1835. The freedmen and women remain on the land, but you don’t own them.”
Jacques-Henri peered closely at the figures on the road. “They still work the fields?”
“That’s what . . . ”
“Oh, get on with it, man! What are you trying to say?”
“They reside in the houses, till and harvest but . . . ”
“But?” Jacques-Henri roared.
“. . . keep the money from the cane sales for themselves.”
Jacques-Henri lowered the stereoscope. “Not any longer. Burn them out. Kill the men, sell the children. Bring the women to me.”

 

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