Angel's Mural â"‚ Ziall Horalik Mini-Fic

O N E - 'Master' Horan

          Seventeen year old Niall Horan sat atop the Mulberry tree, pealing his apple with his knife and watching the dark skinned workers below him pick cotton, their fingers being prickled and pinched, their bodies burning and pain rushed right through him as he watched one faint, falling to the ground.

          He of course rushed to her before anyone saw, jumping from his tree branch and running to the elder woman’s side. She flinched, wobbling to her knees, a throaty cough erupting and earning the attention of a nearby worker, the albino as the white men would call him. He was Niall’s age, with dark, soft hair. Or, so Niall imagined it would be.

          “I’m sorry Master,” He said quickly, helping the old woman to her feet. “Please, please don’t lash her. I’ll take it; L’take her punishment, but please…Don’t lash her, Master.” He pleaded, silent tears drizzling down his cheeks.

           “I-I’m not going to lash anyone, I just wanted to help her up.” Niall murmured, pulling the mettle water bottle he kept around his neck off, Opening it and handing it to her. “Please, drink.” He asked, placing her hand over the neck of the bottle. “M-Master,” Her old, cracked voice came but Niall shushed her, taking the bottle himself and holding it to her mouth.

           “You need to drink, Please, I don’t want anyone to see you fall again,” He whispered.

          She drank timidly, the cool water taming her dry mouth, giving her spinning head a relies, her cracked lips some sort of moisture.

          The boy beside her still held her up, his eyes occasionally wondering to the apple in Niall’s hand, only a single bite token out of it.

          He was so, so hungry…He couldn’t feel his stomach anymore, or recon the last morsel he had. He was selfless and handed down all his food to the younger children, who’s tummy’s rumbled for more than the cup of slop they were aloud each morning and night.

           “Are you hungry?” Niall wondered, holding his apple up to the darker who shook his head. He didn’t dare take the masters food, it could be a trick, he didn’t want to risk that. “It’s okay; I’m not going to hurt you. What your name?” Niall wondered, screwing the lid back on the water bottle and slinging it over his neck.

           “Zayn,” He said quietly, still looking at the red, juicy apple in Niall’s hand. “You can have this, You need it more than me Zayn,”

          With that, Niall handed him the apple, their hands brushing, sending chills up Niall’s spine, his body filling with warmth and more than most, hunger, fore more of the exhilarating touch. “T-Thank Y’Master,” He mumbled, stammering away.

          Niall hated when they called him ‘master’. He wasn’t a master, and these people weren’t owned. Niall wanted them to know that, he wanted everyone to know that. They were people, who had thoughts and felt pain, not some kind of mule to plow the fields.

          Niall sighed, climbing back into his tree and watching the people below, his eyes darting to the light skinned slave who still nibbled on his apple. Niall felt pleased he gave Zayn the apple. He didn’t want him to be hungry, not anymore.