The Moment the Bad Prevailed

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Action and Adventure  |  House: Booksie Classic
This short story is about a man who had lost everything because of the slave trade. He was forced into a life of struggle but one day got what he deserved.

Submitted: June 12, 2011

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Submitted: June 12, 2011

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We were living a normal African life. I had a wife and two children. We were very happy with what we had. We had a variety of crops and seeds. The reason for our success is because we were near a river. We had a clean water supply and we never felt sick. One day while we were harvesting our crops they came.
Strange creatures came on boats. They were a lot like us but they looked as if they had been burnt all over. They were white. They also had a strange variety of sticks. I tried to greet them but they just grabbed me with a grip that hurt. At that moment I knew they were dangerous. Their sticks shot out great balls of fire and made holes in walls. They then started the assault. They took all the villages children including mine, they took all the women. I suspected them to have taken her too but I didn’t see her. They took a majority of the men. They couldn’t catch us all, as some of us ran to the jungle. I didn’t, my children were with them. I went and looked for my wife but she was not to be seen. I went back to the fields. I nearly broke down but I could only catch a glimpse of her as the white men came chasing after me. My wife had been hit with their strange weapons they had shot her where people get life from.
I was crying as I ran I was feeling so terrible. I thought to myself, “Why couldn’t I protect my wife and children why had I been so cowardly”. My thoughts faded them as a ball of fire caused me to faint. The last thing I remembered was that I was bleeding and blood was flowing with a gush.
I woke up on what I thought was a ship. My leg was covered with a strange material. I then remembered that I had been shot there. That area painfully hurt me. I then started to wonder where my children were. I tried to get up but I was tied to the ground with huge metal ropes. They were tight around my arms and legs. They hurt very much but that didn’t stop me from trying to break away. I tried for hours upon end and finally stopped. The metal ropes made my arms hurt even more when I tried.
I felt sick, very sick. I wanted to throw up but I couldn’t. The sickness just lay there in me. I looked around and found one of my close friends beside me. At this point I had soiled my garments and so had the others aboard the ship as it smelled terribly. My friend didn’t show signs of life. I thought maybe, he was sleeping so I tried to wake him up, but he didn’t awake. A voice came from beside me, it said, “He is dead, you are in a vile ship full of disease the same will happen to you soon and it will happen to me also”. I said to the voice, “I will not die, I will go on and will not die, I will find my children and take them back home with me”. After a long period of silence he said, “I like your courage it is as strong as a lion’s but a lone lion’s courage is not enough to beat a herd of elephants”. I asked him, “What is your name”. He said with a loud and proud voice, “Timbuktu, I was once a prince to a great area but now I am nothing, I have been stripped of my title and thrown into this big dump”. I then said, “I had a normal and happy life once. I had a wife who was killed and two children who may be dead or alive, they are the ones who are giving me courage and I will not give up hope until I find them”. Timbuktu said, “ You will soon learn that it is no use, you are a lone man and based on where we are going you will never find your children”. Those words ended our conversation.
The next morning I woke up feeling famished, a few of the white men came and gave us half a slice of bread and water sufficient for a baby. They took away all the dead bodies and either stored them or threw them away, there was no way of telling. Nearly half of the group was taken away, all of them were dead. They took my friend from the village as he was also dead. After they had gone I turned to my other side and Timbuktu was also dead. The only reason I survived is because of my courage, Timbuktu had none and so he released himself willingly. I slept again but woke up in the middle of the night by children; they were the ones who had to give us the same rations as the ones we got in the morning. I soon realized that my children could be among some of them so I shouted, “TATU, NIKITA, WHERE ARE YOU” and to my delight they answered. They came running to me and hugged me. They were in tears and so was I. I knew my children were alive but they were also starved, they looked sick and pale.
The days in my ship were spent with alone but when food came, with my children. Though it was only brief it was still something. One day my children didn’t come I shouted their names but they didn’t come, instead a boy came and told me, “I am very sorry but your children have passed away”. At that moment I started screaming, shouting and crying. My children had died and I had nothing to live for. I went on shouting and crying for days on end until the white men came and beat me. I bled all over but no materials came to cover it up.
Weeks later we arrived in some place full of the people like the ones who had taken me away. The wounds of my children’s deaths had not gone away; I felt hatred towards these people. I was bought by one of them like buying a camel from a market. My first owner treated me badly, he whipped me when I didn’t do work and later sold me. My hatred grew as I passed through my various owners. I had learned their language and their ways of life. One day I was sold to a kind person. She treated me well, she made me work but I did it willingly as she paid me. Years later I had enough money to become a free slave and buy myself a house.
I had become a carpenter and was making a lot of money. I soon had businesses and became wealthy. I became a politician and fought for the abolition of slavery. Decades later I had succeeded I was a happy man but my memories of my people will never die. The wounds of my family’s deaths will never go away.
 


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