NationStates Jolt Archive

This is a Closed RP: Just sit back and enjoy the reading. (Although if somebody could think of a really GREAT, and I mean GREAT, way to contribute, I'd be open for listening to their ideas for their involvement in IM or TG only, not posts on here. Thank you.



Ic-


The hot sun beat down on Mississippi, the war was over now, it had been for months, Jackson had fallen in 63, that was when they knew things were bad, the war was being lost right in their own back yard. But now it was all over, total defeat. It seemed like ages ago, but in actuality it was less than nine months previous that the war had ended.

People lingered about still, trying to get home, to their loved ones, through the swarms of soldiers making their way North or South, the release of prisoners only adding to the chaos and the mess.

Nobody on the Fabus plantation seemed happy, negro or white, slave or master, for them defeat meant only occupation by the North, a foreign power in their minds.

It was all over though, a defeat, and a costly one. Of the half-dozen Fabus boys that just a few years ago had been running through the hills, playing in the meadows, and swimming in the nearby creek, only two were still alive, the other four had been taken throughout the war, falling at battles across the divided country, they would never witness the defeat and occupation of their nation…

Winston Fabus rubbed the sweat off of his brow and lowered his head as he watched his nation’s flag being lowered for the last time, and the foreign flag being raised up, it was too much for him to bear, four years of struggle in vain, for nothing, his country raped and plundered. A single tear rolled down his face and hit the parched earth beneath him.

Suddenly one of the foreign devils cracked him in the back with a club, shouting, “What are you crying about reb! Don’t you love your country!”

He’d been home for four days and he didn’t plan to take this insult sitting down.

Winston nodded his head, “Yes, I love my country, why don’t you leave my country, and take your friends with you.”

The yankee devil was about to strike him again when suddenly Winston’s faithful slave, Moses raised up his hand and caught the yankee’s hand in his grasp, saying, “Dun ju be hurting my massah none, he ain’t dun nufing ta ju, jus’ ju let him ‘lone, else I be haven to whup ju.”

The devil nearly laughed, “What’s your problem nig—r, we came down here to free you, and this is what you give us for gratitude.”

Moses crossed his arms and firmly said, “I ain’ axe fo no freedom, les’ what ya’ll be callin’ freedom, ain’t nufin mo den you all getten yo chance to keep us down. Ya’ll bes jus go back up Norf’ and leave us down here be.”

A blue coated officer rode up on a horse, demanding answers, “Sergeant what is going on here? You do know that civilians aren’t to be bothered, don’t you?”

The sergeant snapped to attention and saluted, then answered, “Nothing sir, just telling some locals to move along…”

The captain smiled, “Very good, then let them on their way.”

Winston nodded his head and said, “Thank you sir.” To the captain before he and Moses continued on their way.

Moses looked at him when they got around the corner, saying, “Massah, you okay from dat der yank hitting ju wit his club?”

Winston sighed, “Moses, don’t call me master anymore, you’re a free man now, do you understand?”

Moses shook his head, “I ain’ axe ta be made free, I like worken fo ju and da missus, ain’t nufen ta worry bout cept worken, all else get took care o by ju and da missus.”

Winston sighed again, “But still… Moses, don’t call me master…”

Moses nodded his head, “Yes sir, massah Fabus.”

Winston sighed and rolled his eyes, “Just call me Colonel, okay?”

Moses nodded his head again, eagerly saying, “Yes sir, massah Colonel Fabus.”

Winston rolled his eyes yet again, “Just call me Colonel Fabus, no master at all, okay?”

Moses was puzzled, “Ju shor I ain’ gots ta call ju massah?”

Winston patted him on the back, “I’m sure…”

Moses smiled, “Okay, Colonel, sir.”

The two men walked off down the street, as enemy forces marched along the other way, their smug looks, the look of a victor, and their leering glances at the ladies, made both Moses and Winston red with rage.

Ten minutes later, in a largely deserted section of the city, most of the inhabitants having fled or been driven out, Winston and Moses were walking along when suddenly Moses saw something.

Moses shook his head when he realized one of the foreign devils, by himself, was dragging a kicking and screaming young woman behind a building, he shouted, “Colonel, look der, dat yankee devil tryen have his way wit dat gal!”

Winston drew out his Colt Model Army which he’d taken off a dead Yankee at the battle of Shiloh, and he raced forward, shouting, “Get your paws off her, wretch!”

The Yankee turned, whizzing around, trying to draw his own gun, but Winston fired, cocked back the hammer, and fired again, putting two balls in the man before he knew what hit him.

Winston walked over to the disheveled woman and lifted her up off her feet, asking her, “Ma’am, you alright? Streets just aren’t safe anymore with all this trash from the North moving along…”

She was about to reply when she noticed a gang of yankees moving fast towards where they were standing, she shook her head and said, “Let’s go, we’d better get out of here, fast…”

Moses picked up the dead Yankees pistol and then joined Winston and the woman as they ran.

The half dozen or so Yankees raised up their rifles and fired a volley, but not a single ball found it’s mark. Moses and Winston turned and each fired once, one man was struck dead, another wounded, the party gave up the chase to tend to their wounded comrade.



A half mile or so down the road, the three stopped, nearly out of breath. The woman frowned as she said, “Sir, you’ll be in a lot of trouble when those yanks find out who did this…”

He shook his head, “This state’s dying, the plantation will probably get seized by Yankees, the house will be looted, it’s all going downhill… Heck, we’re heading west in a few days anyway, nothing left for us here.”

Moses smiled, “Colonel, sir, I git ta come wid ju, right?”

Winston shook his head, “I keep telling you Moses, you’re free… You can do what you want now.”

Moses frowned, “But Colonel, sir, I ain’ don nufing wrong, I want to come, why can’t I come?”

Winston sighed, “Okay, you can come too…”

Moses smiled like a young child unwrapping his presents on Christmas, finding just what he wanted.

They all borrowed some horses from a friend who lived nearby, a friend who basically was giving them horses as he had too many to take with him, he was heading West in a few days


Winston has no idea of knowing that as soon as he got back onto his plantation, instead of finding his former slaves up in arms, they were waiting patiently and peacefully to talk to him about staying on and continuing to work him. He wouldn't have to move West, he hated the idea anyway, and was glad he might just be able to make things work in Mississippi... Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad after all.

But still, the invaders occupied his nation, they’d had Jackson since ’63, still they raped and plundered, still they were here. Still they had to be driven out.

He’d shed no more tears for Dixie, now he’d take up his pistol and rifle once more, and fight again for Dixie.

The sun set that night as Moses and Winston were standing guard over the main approach to the plantation; a few other former slaves were standing guard over the less obvious approaches. Nothing would happen that night, not yet anyway, but in the coming weeks and months, there would be many a battle to be fought as a new wave of resistance spread throughout the south. Already the rumors in the backwoods of Tennessee were spreading to other states. Tales of “ghosts” on ghoulish horses draped in white, were flooding across the land and filling up the papers.

In time both Winston and Moses would join up with the new rebellion sweeping across the South, donning the white cap and gown of those who refused to prostrate themselves before aspiring yankee robber barons and dishonest carpetbaggers who came north with bags of empty promises, and ended up causing distrust and dissension amongst the otherwise happy and peaceful blacks.

In time though, the Yankee invaders would be sent packing, but now was not the time, now was the time to organize and ready for the new rebellion that was coming.

bump for more to read, update in a bit perhaps.

OOC: good

OOC: Good writing. :)

Winston and his oldest son, the twenty-two year old Jeremiah Fabus, were sitting inside both smoking pipes; they were waiting for dinner to be ready. Jeremiah was the only son that had made it through the war, well the only son the Winston would acknowledge, he wasn’t on speaking terms with his other surviving son, the twenty-one year old Edward Fabus, the two hadn’t spoken since January of 1861.

Winston sighed and said, “Son, let me tell you, one day, all this.” He motioned with his hand as he continued, “All this, will be yours. You know that?”

Jeremiah shook his head and shrugged, “What about Edward?”

Winston nearly exploded, but kept his rage to himself, not wanting to yell at his (in his mind) only surviving son, he took a deep breath and calmly said, “We don’t speak that name in this house, remember?”

Jeremiah nodded his head, “Sorry father, I guess I forgot, but he is my brother you know…”

Winston sighed, “No need, just don’t forget again… And no, your real brothers are all dead, they died fighting for our country…”

Jeremiah missed Edward but decided not to press the issue, he just stayed sitting in his chair and kept smoking his pipe.

Winston knew he was getting old, forty to be exact, and getting older each day, he really didn’t care if he saw Edward ever again, although that is what he claimed and told neighbors when they pointed out, “That boy of yours is a traitor.” The truth was he wanted to see his son but he wasn’t going to be the first to admit it and he wouldn’t admit he was wrong and his son was right, he really believed he was right.


A few hours later, as he and his wife, Elsie Fabus, about thirty-nine years of age, were just sitting down to dinner, their daughter, Lydia Fabus, twenty-three years of age, and Jeremiah joined them.

Nobody said anything while they ate, Winston wasn’t in a talking mood and they all sensed it, so they all kept quiet and ate.

As soon as he finished eating, Winston stood up and left, he was going to walk around the plantation for a while, he turned to Elsie and said only, “I’m going to get some air, be back later…” He lit up a cigar and left, walking off down a path towards a hill that overlooked a creek that ran through the edge of his property.


Elsie nervously smiled and told Jeremiah and Lydia, “You two don’t just sit there, lend a hand here, these dishes won’t clean themselves…”

Jeremiah frowned, “Mother, that’s woman’s work, besides, I’m going to sleep, I’m tired, and somebody has to get up before sunrise tomorrow and help father, plantations don’t run themselves you know.”

That said, he went upstairs and to his room, promptly falling asleep.

Elsie sighed and cleared the table with the help of Lydia.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, Elsie went to answer it, she was shocked, and pleasantly surprised. Standing there was her son, Edward, his blue uniform stained with caked on dirt, the sergeant’s stripes hard to spot. She didn’t know what to say, she just threw her arms around him and hugged him, saying, “come in, come in, why didn’t you come sooner, the war’s been over for months…”

He hugged her back, kissing her on the cheek, then he answered her, “I… Gosh, I don’t know ma, I guess I just didn’t… Well… I figured father wouldn’t approve, you know?”


She shook her head, “No, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you after all this time, come in, come in… Get out of that dirty uniform, breathing all that dust off your jacket can’t be good for the lungs; I’ll clean it for you tomorrow. There is still some food left if you’re hungry…”

He smiled, “Thanks ma, thanks, that’d be great right about now, I haven’t eaten since I walked all the way from Memphis, far as the boat was going…”

She gasped, “You walked all the way from Memphis? You must be famished and exhausted, come in, come in…”

She shouted, “Lydia, get a plate of food ready, your brother’s home…”

Lydia came walking into the room, “What?” she said, in disbelief, “Edward? Is that you? I hardly recognized you you’re so dirty…” she laughed at the last part and then gave her brother a warm hug, asking him, “How are you? What took you so long getting back here?”


He shook his head, “Ah… I’m fine, don’t worry, I’m good, what about you? How have you all been doing?”

She smiled as she headed for the kitchen, beckoning for him to follow, going to get his food for him, answering on the way, “Oh, I’ve been good, ma and the others are okay too.”

He nodded his head, “I’d like to see Jeremiah and Matthew, if they’re around here somewhat, I’d like to talk to both of them…”

Lydia suddenly stopped, frozen; she turned around, the look in her eyes, “Oh… My… Didn’t you know? Matthew’s dead, died in May of sixty-three, at the Battle of Jackson…”

He closed his eyes and inside was crying, but didn’t show it, he quickly opened his eyes and nodded his head, “What about Jeremiah?”

She smiled, “He’s okay, made it home okay, he’s sleeping upstairs… Pa’s okay too.”

Suddenly Winston came walking back inside, his jaw dropped, he went red with rage, “You! What are you doing here! I thought I made it clear, you’re not welcome here!” He pulled a pistol from his pocket and said, “Get out and get out now!”

Elsie grabbed his arm, pleading, “Winston! For the love of God! You won’t shoot your own son, will you!”

Lydia jumped in front of Edward, shouting, “Father, don’t, please!”

Winston didn’t move an inch, he kept his pistol trained on his son, saying, “I only have one son now, and he’s probably upstairs sleeping, I had four other sons, but they’re all dead…”

Edward nearly broke down crying when he heard that, he had come home knowing at least one of his brothers was dead, and had just learnt another was dead, but learning all but one was dead, it was almost too much… He did start crying, the tears flowing down his face; he shook his head, “Father, how can that be? Are you sure, maybe they just ain’t all come home yet?”

Winston cocked back the hammer, “I’m sure, your friends made sure they’d not be coming home, now go on and get out of here, you’ve no more place here… I don’t want to see you around here…”

After a few seconds of nobody saying anything, he shouted, “Go on get! I’ll shoot you myself if you don’t!”

Elsie shouted, “Winston! Please!”

Winston then nodded his head, and scoffed, “See, you’re upsetting your mother, now get!”

Edward turned and walked for the door, not bothering to conceal the limp he had, the one he’d been concealing when he first arrived.

Something seemed to click inside of Winston, concern for his boy being stronger, at least for the moment, than his hatred for what his son had done. He decocked the revolver, tucked it into his pocket and walked over to Edward, putting his hand on his shoulder, saying, “I guess it wouldn’t kill anybody to let you stay just the night…”

Edward smiled, “Thanks, father.”

Winston shook his head, “Don’t be thanking me, I want you out in the morning…”

Edward nodded his head, knowing his father would ultimately let him stay.

Winston patted him on the back and hugged him, and then he asked him, “So son, how were things up North?”

Edward shook his head; “I like it better down here…” He probably shouldn’t have said it that way; he opened up the door for Winston’s reply.

Winston frowned, “Hmmm, well for liking the south so much, it sure didn’t stop you from taking up arms against it.”

Elsie gently elbowed Winston in the ribs, whispering, “Dear, please don’t go there…”

Edward nodded his head and said, “I know dad, I know… I’m… I’m sorry…” he should have stopped there and things might have been fine, but he continued, “I did what I thought I had to, I didn’t want the country to fall apart.”

Winston frowned even more, “Oh! The country, hmmm? Tell me, what about the CSA? Your country, what about Mississippi, your state? What about them?”

Edward shook his head, “I don’t know pa, you know I never supported the idea of secession to begin with, it didn’t seem right…”

Winston sighed, wanting to argue with his wrong son but not wanting to upset his daughter or wife, so he just let it go, “Don’t worry about all that now son, just go get something to eat…”


Edward smiled as his father hugged him again and choked back a few tears. Winston then turned to his wife and daughter and said, “Well you two just move along, I’m sure you got things to do…”

After they left the room Winston hugged Edward again, kissed him on the cheek and said, “Welcome home, son, you’ll be staying, won’t you?”

He nodded his head and replied, “If you’ll let me, father.”

Winston smiled, “Of course, you’ll have a place here… Just… Well, can we just not talk about what happened in sixty-one? I won’t bring it up if you don’t. Okay?”

Edward nodded his head, “Yeah, sure thing father, sounds good to me.”

Winston held his son close to him, and then tears started to run down his face as he patted his son on the back, “I’m… I’m glad you’re home boy, you know that?”

Edward’s eyes were anything but dry as he replied, with a simple, “Yeah dad, I know.”

Father and son, the hugged each other tightly for what seemed an hour, but was only about a minute, then Winston pointed him to the kitchen and said, “You remember where the kitchen is, go get your food, you need to keep up your strength.”


Edward smiled and walked towards the kitchen, but he couldn’t help but cry inside as he recalled the events of the Battle of Shiloh and how his brother Zachary died, he knew it was something he’d never “get over” or forget it, or be able to forgive himself, and he knew if Winston found out, he’d never be able to forgive him either…

For now though, he tried to put the battle out of his mind and satisfy his raging hunger.

bump for more to read.

Later in the night, as his mind was ripping itself apart with a civil war of its own, Edward began to recall the events of the night of April 6th of 1862.

The battle had raged all day, at the place known as Shiloh in Tennessee, no side seemed to have the advantage as of yet, but things would tip for the Union’s side in a short while with the arrival of nearly 20,000 reinforcements under Buell.

Edward was with the Army of Tennessee under General Grant, he had been up North since the war started. There was no real question about it, he supported the Union and couldn’t stand to see a secession movement. Although it cause him more pain than any of his brothers or his father could know, for him to be able to bring himself to actually leave Mississippi and join the side opposing home state.

The sun had just fallen about two hours ago, but already it was quite dark, the temporary calm of night wouldn’t last long, as soon the heavens would send down a deluge of rain, perhaps as a call to the cries of the wounded for water. And then thunder would shatter the silence and lightning would illuminate the sky, the storm would rage on for hours.


Edward was on a picket, tasked, along with twelve other men, of challenging anybody who tried to come through to get into their lines. They had been told by their commander, a captain originally from Kentucky, “Boys, there isn’t none of our boys round here, only rebs, so anybody be coming from yonder…” he then pointed off to a small grove of trees, before continuing, “Just bring them down without question, cause ain’t no friendlies be coming from that there way, ya hear?”

All of the men, including Edward, fully understood the order, don’t bother challenging anybody from that direction, just shoot and don’t take chances.

Edward sat back, leaning against a tree, smoking a pipe as the rain started to come down, he pulled his coat around him, letting part of it cover his head, trying to keep as dry as possible and keep his powder dry. Every now and then his eyes would start to feel heavy, but he fought the urge to lay down and sleep, knowing he had to stay awake, it was his duty.



Zachary Fabus had just fallen in with a troop of men who were going to be on patrol to probe the federal lines under the cover of darkness. They were being asked to help map out the area and get a feel for the Union force disposition so the commanders could get an idea of how to plan their actions in the morning.

Zachary was fighting under the Army of Mississippi, commanded by P.G.T. Beauregard, he’d joined up the day of secession, exaggerating his age, if even just slightly, to get in without hassle.

Zachary was so happy the day he got his uniform, and his sister and mother were indeed happy for him as well. His brothers would have been happy, but they were all off in the war already, as was Winston.

Winston was in command of a regiment at Shiloh and Elsie had been so proud of him the day he got his command. They were both proud, but he didn’t show it out of modesty, but she showed enough pride for the both of them.



Edward was sitting with his back against a tree, smoking and just relaxing a bit, not really concerned with anything. The night had already encroached and it was practically pitch black but the occasional streak of lighting in the sky would, for a few seconds at least, light up the area at semi-regular intervals.

He had been lying back for a few hours, his eyes getting tired and heavy, but the fresh coffee he’d been brought earlier by a friend was really helping him, and the pipe only made him feel better and more relaxed. He was at ease.


On the other side of the grove of trees, moving through the woods at the head of his patrol was Zachary, who was clutching his Spencer repeating carbine, a rare weapon that his father, Winston, had gone to great lengths to procure for him, as he had for all his boys, save for “the traitor”, Edward. Winston had gotten each of his boys a revolver and a repeating rifle, believing it would increase their chances of keeping alive.

Major Winston Fabus was in his command tent, going over some maps with one of the generals and a few colonels, they were wanting him to take some cavalry in the early hours of the morning and scout out for a way to get away from the battle, disengage the union forces, they were going to be retreating to Corinth.

Winston was drawing a few points on the map, where he thought the forces should move, where they out to assign rear guards to cover the withdrawl, artillery screen in the event of a union cavalry attack against the withdrawing forces. As he was drawing on the map and making his notes on a piece of paper, fate was unfolding nearby.


Out of the of the corner of his eye, Edward saw movement in the distance, no more than sixty feet away, it had to be a rebel. He raised up his musket and it erupted as the lightning streaks in the sky overhead erupted at the same time. Whatever it was that had been moving, had just gone down, screaming. Suddenly a volley from where the man had been, flashed, and a volley from Edward’s picket flashed. Both sides traded fire for a few minutes, each man firing perhaps half a dozen rounds.

Edward raised up his pistol, a Colt Model Army, and began firing, working the hammer after each shot. Within another minute, all was quiet, then the silence was interrupted by a few shots from men rushing back through the woods, back to their own line.

Edward cautiously stood up as the sounds of a wounded man in agony carried forward to his position. Somebody was begging, “Help me… Somebody…”

He felt a chill throughout his body, a shudder, that voice, it sounded familiar, he prayed it wasn’t who he thought it was as he made his way over towards where he placed the voice at. He rushed forward, half tripping but then catching himself before running face first into some branches, which left scratches across his face, bright red streaks of blood came down his face from the cuts, but he didn’t care. He had to find out...

After he got to the man, with the lightning raging, he could see who it was. His worst fears were realized, it was his brother, Zachary, he had shot his own brother.

Zachary was lying down on the ground, he’d propped himself up against a log, somewhat anyway, but not too well, it hurt too much to move. He looked up though, and recognized his brother. He didn’t want Edward to feel bad, he figured since he was right here, he’d probably been the one who shot him.

Zachary smiled as Edward knelt down besides him and put his arms around him, holding him up and pulling Zachary close to his body. He embraced him tightly as the warm tears started to flow down his face. The words seemed to come out on their own, “Oh God, Zachary, what have I done… What have I done…”

Zachary shook his head meekly back and forth, barely able to whisper, but he managed to. “Don’t worry… Glad… was you, if it had to be, glad was you…”

His eyes started to roll back into his head until Edward shook him, pleading, “Zachary, no! Zachary, we’ll get you a doctor… Stay with me, stay…”


Edward turned and started shouting in vain at the soldiers back near the edge of the woods, “Get a doctor! Help me!” but none of them could hear over the sounds of the heavy rains and lightning.

He tried to stand up and shoulder his brother, but the mud was too thick and he kept slipping. He realized he’d never be able to get him out of here on his own, but if he left him for even a minute, he might slip away and die.

Edward’s face was caked with dirt, wet tears, and dried tears, combined with the rainwaters that continually flushed and mixed these all together. He ran a hand across his face and rubbed the dirt out of his eyes, he now had a quantity of blood on his cheeks and forehead. He didn’t care though; it could wait.

He was holding his increasingly pale brother in his arms now, forcing himself to smile as he said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get out of here…”

After a few seconds of silence, he shook his brother and pleadingly asked, “Zachary, can you hear me?”

Zachary weakly nodded his head as his hand struggle to tug something out of his pocket, a letter. He placed it firmly in Edward’s hand and said only, “Father…” before he said, “Don’t worry, Edward, I know you didn’t mean it… I forgive you.”

He suddenly went limp in Edward’s arm, he now felt the full weight of his brother, his lifeless brother, his dead brother, in his arms. The weight of what had just happened crashed down upon him, pressed down upon him.

He fell over his brother’s lifeless body and cried into the night. The rains continued to crash down and he continued to cry, pausing only long enough to take a blanket out and cover his dead brother.