Holding on to Memories

2. Where

Consciousness spilled through Johan's mind. He was sitting, the rough wood he was leaning against harshly rubbing against his neck. His arms and shoulders were sore. Where am I?

A memory replayed in his mind.

Strong hands, jerking him from his cot at night. The feeling of rope, being bound around his wrists. Cloth, pressed over his mouth and nose, cutting off his breathing, his scream of warning.

The memory faded into darkness.

Johan opened his eyes. Sunlight leaked through the cracks in the ceiling. He was in a small hold, along with about fifteen other young men and boys. Like most of the others, his hands were tied behind his back. Then he noticed the slow, rocking movement of the floor, and muffled sound of a repeated slap against one of the walls. Realization hit him like a punch.

He was a prisoner. On a slave ship.

Every moment that passed was carrying him farther away from his home, his adopted family, and Anisa. Oh, Anisa.

He pictured her face. Her long, auburn-colored hair. Her mouth, the shadow of a smile always dancing at the corners. Her slightly upturned nose. And her eyes, deep with the wisdom he had come to love so much. What would she think when she heard he was gone?

The sharp thud of footsteps on the deck above him roused Johan from his thoughts. There was the sound of muffled shouting, then a hatch on the far side of the hold flew open. Three men, each holding a small gun, climbed down into the hold.

"Git up," one commanded, kicking the figure closest to him. The captives, some just waking, blearily got to their feet. Motioning with their hands and pointing with their guns, the sailors forced the prisoners to line up. The line shuffled forward; they were walking out onto the deck.

When Johan stepped out, the first thing he saw was the ocean, stretching endlessly all around them. So vast, empty, hopeless...

"Keep walking, Johan," a low voice whispered behind him. Johan stumbled forward, then glanced back. His eyes fell on a familiar face. Issac Cunniton... His neighbor's expression was dreary and downcast. Johan looked around him. Now that they were out of the hold, he could see the other captives clearly. There was Sam Myler, Elijah Galden, Joseph Harris, and every other young man - and a few boys - from his village. Even little Davy Woodley, no more than nine years of age, had been taken. The child was clinging to his older brother's hand, his eyes wide and fearful, his cheeks wet with tears. Emotion twisted in Johan's chest. He looked away.

A door flew open the other side of the ship, and a man stalked out. The other sailors shrank back. The man was tall, solidly built, with rough, chiseled features. He eyed the prisoners, examining each carefully. When his eyes reached Johan, his expression changed into one Johan could not decipher. Then the look was gone and the man continued to search the other captives. When he finished, his mouth twisted into a sneer.

"Welcome ab'rd the Stonewater. I's be Cap'tn Jax, of Kast'n." He smiled dryly. "This be war, lads. And ye's in it now."

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you think! -Ashley