Benny's Favourite Song

TW: Racist themes

Benny Monroe was a plantation owner who loved whipping his slaves, it was his favourite thing to do. The screams, the cries, the laughs, the crack of the whip. To him, the whole thing was like one big beautiful song, and he the conductor. Todays victim was an old man named Virgil, he was around 68 with a long beard and even longer hair as white as snow which contrasted poorly with his horrible yellow teeth. He was punished with only Three lashes but was on his 8th, 9th and now 10th. At this point the old man's screams had stopped, reduced to small whimpers and cries. "From now on you will remember to address me as sir. Correct?" Benny asked while playing with his long blonde hair like an embarrassed teenage girl . "Fuck you, sir," He replied. Benny was in shock, never had one of his slaves spoke back to him in such a way, especially after such an extreme punishment. The whip cracked once more. "Say that again and see what happens," Benny yelled desperately trying to make an example of him, to deter anyone from doing anything similar in the future. Virgil's body was lifeless and still, but still he was able to ring out another "Fuck you, sir," this time louder. Three more lashes were given. "Fuck you, sir." Virgil was now moving again, slowly but surely he was bringing himself to his feet, the old man who couldn't stand without a stick moments before was now getting back up alone after 14 lashes. "Impossible." Benny Thought. Chants of support now began of Virgil's name from the other slaves angering Benny further, it was ruining his beautiful song. He even noticed some of his paid workers laughing at him. In an attempt to regain control of the situation he pulled out his gold plated revolver(a family heirloom) and sent 2 shots into the sky then yelled "Enough!" It was hard to tell what was louder the yell or the gun shots. His workers flinched while the slaves all fell to the ground hiding there head between there knees, all except Virgil who was still standing, staring Benny down with angry eyes, an anger you've never seen before, an anger no actor could mimic. But Benny could as he felt it too. Benny stormed up to the pensioner and put the barrel of the gun between his eyes. "Say it again!" Benny growled shakily. Virgil's eyes flew into the back of his head and he began speaking in some language no one there understood, it was a strange dialect with lots of clicking and throat sounds but Benny assumed it was just some language from his home country. Benny began to feel entranced, as if struck by some form of hypnosis, the whole world around him went dark and the only thing lit was Virgil and the crazy faces he was making to speak the strange language. After around 15 seconds of this Virgil's lips began to pucker and sent a bullet of spit right in Benny's face. Benny snapped back to reality like freezing water being flung on a sleeping man's face, he fell down on his backside and looked around in fear, noticing all the workers and slaves giving looks of confusion at him. He wiped his face clean and got up, immediately stormed towards the old man, repositioning the gun between his eyes and fired without hesitation. 

Later that night Benny was in the plantation house office flipping a pen in his hand reliving the incident in his head, he had many questions. How Virgil was able to stand, especially after all the lashes, what did he say in the strange language and what was the weird feeling he was left with, like a million tiny bugs where gnawing at his fingers. He listened out the open window to the sound of a shovel digging in the courtyard for Virgil's grave, normally a dead slave of his would be gave to his workers and he would never see the body again, but Virgil was different, he would stay as a reminder to the rest of the slaves as to what would happen if they stepped out of line. "Never mind," he thought sitting the pen down, usually something like this would tear at him all night but he was excited as his wife Maisy and son Louie were visiting the next day.

The next morning he woke up to a black mans hand in front of him, he jolted up in shock and looked around, but the hand moved with him, so did another, as did a black pair of legs. Benny rushed to his bathroom and looked in the mirror at his face. His skin was that of an black man's, and not just any black man's, he had never seen skin as dark as his was now, and his hair, so rough and spongey. He vomited in the mirror from disgust and then smashed it from anger covering his hand in blood and puke, a nearby worker heard all the noise and came into the bathroom without knocking, "What the fuck are you doing in here!" he yelled, thinking Benny was a slave. He grabbed Benny by the neck and slammed him into the sink, Benny desperately clawed at the workers face trying to free himself from his grip, even smearing some of the blood and puke around his mouth. The worker gasped and stood back letting Benny go. Benny noticed a black handprint on the workers face from where he had been clawing which suddenly began to spread rapidly like a rash, from his face across his whole body, turning his thin ginger hair to dark and curly changing even his facial features. "What did you do to me," Benny looked as the man stared at himself in the broken, blood and vomit covered mirror with the same disgust he had moments ago. Out of either fear or anger, maybe both, Benny picked up a piece of glass from the broken mirror and cut the man's throat killing him. He sat in the corner of the bathroom and began to realise what was happening, for some odd, mysterious reason whoever he touches turns into the thing he hates the most.

He re-entered his bedroom and covered all his skin, a long jacket with gloves, big boots with socks pulled up to the calf's long trousers and a jute bag over his head with two eye holes cut out. Finally he grabbed his gold plated revolver and sneaked out the back of the house, he didn't know what was happening or what to do but he did know he didn't want to be a black man on a plantation, especially not his plantation. He made his way to the back gate of the estate using his high hedges for cover. He remained still for a moment noticing the chatter from two of his workers passing by, "Benny's fucking losing it, can't even control an old man any more." The voice passing by began to get quieter as the two gossiping men got further away. Once they were out the way he finally made a final dash towards the back gate and tried opening it. Locked, And too high to climb.

Just then the he heard the voice of his most psychotic but loyal worker, Reeve. Reeve was a horrid man who jumped at the chance to torment and torture, black, white or Asian. Race didn't matter. "Oh we got a runaway Bobby!" He said in a playful but sinister tone. "You know what we do to runaways Negro?" Reeve slowly crept up to Benny from the right side excitedly running his hands about his horribly patchy, unclean beard while an overweight Bobby Hobbled up from the left. Benny out of options pulled out his revolver and aimed it on Bobby stopping him in his tracks, Reeve on the other hand kept moving. "Where'd you get that there gun pal." Reeve asked in his horrible, gravelly voice. "It's mine Reeve." Benny yelled back, panicked. After noticing Reeve getting uncomfortably close he switched aim onto him, Reeve froze but Bobby then began to move closer again. "How you know my name. That you Benny?" Reeve asks. "Yes. Yes its me Reeve." Benny retorts, his tongue tripping over each word.

"Then take off that potato sack on you're head and prove it." Benny reluctantly pulled the Jute bag from his head revealing his dark complexion and altered facial features. "Thought so." Reeve snarls, Benny now returning his aim back to Bobby allowing Reeve to start moving in again. "That gun belongs to the Monroe family and you my friend are no Monroe. How did you get it?"

"I-", Benny tried to explain himself but was cut off by Reeve.

"Naw, I don't want to hear it here, you can tell us back at the house with Benny, how's that sound." Benny had gave up trying to convince him. His aim now back on Reeve, allowing Bobby to move. Now back to Bobby. Then Reeve. Then Bobby. Reeve. Bobby. Reeve. Bobby. The blood from smashing the mirror dripping from his hand and covering the revolver's handle making it harder too grip. Both Bobby and Reeve were getting too close for comfort. Benny began working up the courage to shoot, he could shoot Bobby no problem but not Reeve, as evil as he was he had always been a good friend to him, but just as he finished the thought it was too late, the two men had made there way to him ripping the gun from his hand and whacking it across his face knocking him out.

Benny woke up soaked in sweat in a damp wooden shack that stank of piss and blood where the only light was from a few broken planks. He recognised this room, this was Reeves shed, the place he used for torturing whoever Benny allowed him too. He wondered about Bobby and Reeve and if they had touched his bare skin while dragging him here, he still had all of his skin covered except from his head so probably not he concluded. He got up to make his way to the door but was stopped from a chain tied around his leg attached to a pole in the ground keeping him in place, after a good few tugs at it he gave up and fell to his knees in the corner of the room where he began removing the extra layers of clothing down to just his thin shirt and trousers then he waited.

Two hours later Benny heard the sound of a lock opening and then the creak of the old door swinging open letting in an uncomfortable sheet of light that rushed into the room blinding Benny. Through his squinted eyes he saw a dark silhouette of a woman standing. "What have you done to my husband?" the figure asks in a shaky, small voice clearly trying to hold back tears. He recognized the voice, it was Maisy his wife. His eyes now accustomed to the light saw her clearly. She asks again, "You had his gun, and ain't no one seen since last night. Where is he?" He looked her in the eyes, still on his knees. Now both of them were holding back tears. "Maisy, darling it's me. I'm you're husband."

"Liar."

"Maisy listen, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's me."

"Prove it." she yelled now succumbing to the tears, her eyes puffy and red. Her pale cheeks soaked.

Benny now also stopped resisting the tears and began trying to desperately get her to believe by listing everything he knew about her. "You're middle names Beth. Our son is Louie and 22 years old. You don't know you're real birthday because you were orphaned young but you say it's July 12th because you love the summer."

"Benny?" she asks, unsure while falling to her knee's in front of him where she takes his hands in hers. "No!" Benny yelled throwing himself away from her, but it was too late. Her pale freckly hands had turned dark which began shooting up her arms, now covering her chest, legs, feet and finally her face, changing the features and the hair. she looked like a totally different woman.

"You... You're ruined." Benny cried eyeing her up and down.

Maisy's lips quivered, not from fear or shock but from sorrow at her husbands words.

"Ruined?" she asks, then without waiting for an answer turns around and runs away.

Two black men entered the shack led by Reeve , "Take him to whipping post." He yelled. Benny and Reeve always made his slaves take other slaves to the post. They thought it was funny, made them feel powerful but now that feeling was gone. Reeve unlocked the chain bounding him while the two slaves gently picked him up and carried him over, They then tied him to the post where all the workers and slaves gathered too watch, Just like with Virgil. Benny then heard another familiar voice, this time his son Louie. "Where is my father?" before Benny could say a word he was struck with what he thought was lightning, felt and sounded like it, but it wasn't it was a whip. His whip. "Answer!" Louie yelled. Benny didn't answer, was unable to, the pain was too great. Two more lashes came down onto him and he began to scream like all the other slaves before, he always imagined he would be tough if he was ever in their situation, would take the lashings like a man and tell the the man behind the whip to fuck off, but he couldn't. The sniggers from the workers grew and so did the cries from the slaves. Another crack of the whip came down on him and he let out his biggest scream yet. "My song", he thought, the song he loved. The song of the screaming victim, the crying slaves and the laughing of his workers which he once conducted was ruined for him, he was now the instrument being played vigorously by the whip while his son conducted.

"Untie him." His son yelled. The same two slaves that carried him to the post took him from it and still as gentle placed him in front of his son. Louie stood proud in one of Benny's suits with the Monroe family revolver holstered at his side, still stained with Benny's blood. All his workers and slaves were now taking orders from him probably thinking Benny was dead. "One more time I'm asking Negro. Where is my father?" Benny was now exhausted and had given up all hope, he looked around and saw all his old slaves, his loyal workers and in the distance his wife with her new complexion watching with a handkerchief to her eye. "I killed him." Benny told him, defeated and tired wanting it all to end. A collective gasp filled the area, the slaves held back smiles while the workers held back tears, especially Reeve. Louie in an act of uncontrolled fury pulled out their family revolver, pushed the barrel between Benny's eyebrows and fired without hesitation.