Journal of a slave

The story of a slave

It was a bright day, hot and dry, just like usual. I smiled as I trained; I was going to be made a warrior today. I ran a few more circles around the village, because I knew that my main weakness was my speed. When I was satisfied with how well I could run, I sat down in the shade a little way away from the village and drank some water to relieve the burning ache in the back of my throat, my legs and chest. Now that I think back to that moment I curse myself. How had I not noticed the rustling noises coming from behind me? Had I really been that tired? Or was it the excitement I had felt at finally becoming a warrior? Whatever it was, I shouldn’t have been that relaxed.  A real warrior would have noticed it for sure and a real warrior wouldn’t have been knocked out by a simple club to the head. I felt a sharp pain in the side of my head and caught a glimpse of dark figures running in the village; we were surrounded from all sides. Then blackness overtook my vision and I knew no more.

            As I woke up, I felt a pounding, throbbing feeling in my head and when I looked past that, my whole body was covered in sore bruises and stinging, weeping lacerations. At first I couldn’t figure out what had happened to me, but then I started hearing groaning noises around me. I turned my head and winced. Ha I thought to myself I shouldn’t have done that, but then as I actually looked I felt horrified at what I saw. People from my village, sprawled out everywhere, and they were also covered in bruised and cuts, their hands were also tied up with rough pieces of rope. As I became aware of the fact, I noticed that my hands were also tied up and the rope was rubbing the skin around my wrists raw. I tried to call out to my family, but my dry throat could only make a quiet, raspy sound. I swallowed and tried again but couldn’t do much better.

After that was a bit of a blur, but I remember being forced to march over great distances, until we reached the coast. Along the way, we were whipped if we walked too slowly, and if we grew too tired to continue, we were left for dead. I think we lost around half the people of the village like that. We were only allowed a small time to rest so I was always tired, and we were only fed a little bit, so I was constantly hungry. I do remember considering to just give up and lie down, to be left behind like so many others. But I could never do that. Sometimes my pride was all that kept me going.

When we reached the coast, I was shocked. Along the shore, were giant ships, that wasn’t too bad, but what was worse were the ghosts that steered them. When we were brought closer to them, many of us stared, but could do nothing more. We were all too tired, hungry and much too weak do even consider doing something else than blindly putting one foot in front of another. When we were brought onto the beach, the grains of sand stung the cuts I had sustained on my legs, but I didn’t care. The sting of the sand was mild in comparison to how the rest of me felt. 

O.K so here's the second part. Done pretty quickly huh? Anyway, I just realised that this isn't really a journal. It's a story so....I 'm gonna have to scrap it and start again for the assignment. Meh. I'll probably just finish this one then start the other one.