Willows of Alabama Tremble

I remember the stories as a very young girl, of my great grandmother telling the story about Uncle Joseph and his huge plantation in sweet Alabama.

The mansion had forty-two rooms and a huge balcony and two winding staircases, a large front porch where a swing hung.

Willow trees made a road path which led to the mansion.  You could see the pillars along the porch covered with ivy vines, overlooking acres of cotton fields.

My great grandmother Effie, says that Uncle Joe was a very mean man, he chased his wife Mildred through the cotton fields drunk as a skunk with a butcher knife.

Word has it that Aunt Mildred believed in unrested spirits, ghosts you might say.  The legend of Willow Mansion was told, that late in the night around midnight, you can hear the sound of chains and whips.

Chains that bound down many slaves, and the horrible whipping they received unjustly, was never talked about.

Back then prejudice spread like fire and sent many slaves away to be sold, and those that died from punishments or overheated days of exertion, still walk the grounds they haunt.

The Willow Mansion trembles as the hauntings recall the baby who was stolen, her name was Rosetta, she was taken from the mansion, a house servant slave gave birth to the child.

The mother was raped, then beaten to death, by a confederate soldier, and a posse a few months later found her remains floating down the riverside banks.

Time tells us that the baby, who her mama named her "Rosetta" lives somewhere in Mississippi.  She would have to be around one hundred and two years old by now, and I am hoping to find her some day soon, to find out more.

The unjust things that happened at Willow Mansion will always remain, as the willow trees tremble and the shadows scream throughout the night among the cotton fields.

It's time for me to get more of this story from the slave baby Rosetta, since she was stolen from another servant on the plantation.

It was told, that the confederate soldier hung himself for his horrible act; he could not live with himself for what he had done.

I pray for the times that were so tough back then for our black heritage folk.  My plan is to continue to write and research more of this history, as the story will then begin.

Let the Willows of Alabama tremble and find their peace in heaven, evermore.