The bruises left by the chains were still visible after so many years. I looked at my wrists, and all I wanted to do was somehow erase that part of my life forever. It’s been ten years now, but the wounds lay still on my body. The memories refused to fade away. I breathed in heavily.
I remembered all too well how these chains bound me to everything around me but myself. They bound me to a master, to the ground, to mobiles, to other humans, but never to my spirit. I always wandered out of myself in desire of freedom. Ironically enough, these chains were the closest things I knew to freedom. Being bound to them, being loyal to their purpose, would get me out of this inhuman world faster, and into the world where my life belonged to me.
Every time those memories took over, I shiver. I try my best not to recall all the events that took place in the years of my childhood and adolescence. I’m old now, and still, when you take off my shirt, every bruise marked by my master was still there. Not one faded away. The physical pain is all gone, but I still hurt, and I still cry.
Now, I sit quietly by the fireplace, and I wait. I wait for her return. No beating on my back, bounding around my ankles and wrists, or dragging across the town on my knees was as painful as seeing her being taken away from me. We were both brutally beaten at the front porch of our homes. We were both free. I watched her being dragged before I was taken. I watched the blood flow from her forehead, knees, arms, and even through her shirt.
I tried suppressing my tears, but now I can’t. I needed her back here in my arms. I never saw her again. She was carrying my child. That day, she had told me for the first time we were to have a child. I breathed in heavily. He is no longer alive, I am sure, for they, the so called civilized men, did not spare a bone in her body. I still pray that she is alive. It’s been many years since I saw her.
They ripped away my childhood, those beasts. They took my parents away from me when I was a child. They left me behind to starve and die, but I managed to survive. I tried working around my neighborhood legally, and I salvaged a few coins to keep me well enough. Then, I met her. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. Ever since that day, we spent every moment together. I earned everything I worked for, until finally I could own my own home. We hadn’t lived there for two years until they came for us.
Slaves, they called us. Only because our skin was different than theirs.
I still glance back at the door, wondering about when she will swoop into the living room with her grand smile that lights up my world. She was the reason I ever stayed alive in a world where humans took the role of animals. I sit alone, and I wait…I wait for her, for the love that I can never have. I still feel her presence around me sometimes. I can still feel her lips against mine, and I could never forget the warmth she brought into my soul. She was a heaven I never thought of losing. She was the paradise that I wanted to live in.
Now, I’m back to reality. The fireplace isn’t as warm, but it would do. I still sit there, and I wait.
Note: Hello people of the world. Well, again i am sorry for the late post, but i have been caught up with midterm exams, and well, you know how that goes. Here is another short story i wrote today, and i have no idea why i decided to write about this, but it somehow came up. I hope you enjoy the short story, and i hope it makes a lot of people realize what slavery is , and how it was for people of color. It is an unfair, cruel, inhuman act towards another human. Nowadays, not everyone talks about it, but slavery, unfortunately, still exists…