Missouri Compromise

Author's Note: I wanted to write this piece because I wanted to show how hard being a slave was.

I was a slave. All my life the only thing I knew was slavery. It was 1820, and the Union was pushing for Missouri to be a free state, and so was I. Work was tough, and my owner never let up. If I wasn’t working, I would do extra work for him, work I wasn’t even supposed to do. With this, I might be able to do what I want in my life, and be free of ownership. There was a huge debate going on about what should happen to make this state better for everyone. The Missouri Compromise would set me free and make slavery illegal in this part of our country.

The House originally rejected this compromise bill for half of a free state. Apparently, after a conference committee of members of both main houses was appointed,  The bills were treated separately and in March of 1820, Maine was made a state and Missouri was authorized to adopt a constitution having no restrictions on slavery. This was huge for Missouri and slavery, and more importantly, me. I needed freedom, because I’ve worked hard enough, and long enough, to have two life times full of freedom. My owner was a pain, and I never liked him. This was a chance to be free of all stress and worries.

I wasn’t the first to hear about this, but I heard about it soon enough to know before most did.  There was an agreement put forward by Henry Clay that placed an imaginary line that will keep slavery on one half, and freedom on the other. The south would be slavery, and the northern side will be free. I lived in the northern part of Missouri, and I felt better about life. I finally get to be free. Just when I thought my life would be great, a horrible thought came rushing through my mind that I couldn’t wash away. It was me, being forced by my owner, to move to the southern half of Missouri to stay working for him, and keep living my horrible, almost worthless life. I tried to overcome it, but I couldn’t fight that thought away. It was like someone took a piece of paper and super glued it into my brain. I couldn’t bear that.

After I woke from my nice, peaceful sleep, the first thing that I saw was the morning paper, just delivered by the Pony Express, and so I picked it up. The headline read “Kansas-Nebraska Act Set to Determine If Slavery Should Be Allowed”. I was dazed by the news. I read the article twice to make sure I got all of the information. It said that Stephen Douglas created this act, in which slavery was being determined on which land if any slavery was necessary. This made more land for settlement, and the settlers got to decide if slavery should be allowed. This is big news; maybe I could run away from here and go to Kansas, or Nebraska, or anywhere free of slavery. I could tell my family to do the same. We could live a nice life, and never talk about slavery again. The thought of that gave me goose-bumps.

Today was the day I start my extreme and severe exhibition to freedom. I packed up all of my belongings, even though there weren’t many, and waited. My owner always went for a walk in the morning, a short one, about 10 minutes, and that would give me time to make a run for it. My stuff is so light, I feel like there is no way I won’t be able to do this.

Just as he set out for his walk, I was in stealth mode around the back of the shack, which was pointing west,  where there was nothing but open ground. I had to go quickly, because it would be easy to see me with that much open space. I checked my compass to make sure I was going the right way, and took off. I used all of my speed and bolted towards freedom. I could almost taste it as I inched farther and farther away from the small shack. I had little water, and I was already thirsty. I could deal with a little thirst if it meant freedom.  I turned around and the shack was nowhere in sight. Freedom. I finally had freedom.