Slave Story – Introduction

Loud knocks continued to carry through the hut. He knew it wouldn’t last much longer. His mother thought they would hold out another night, and maybe they’d forget about them, but that didn’t seem likely. The knocking intensified, and it threatened to take our entire hut down. The dirt was coming off the walls in small clouds, covering us in residue. It would only be a matter of time now. It’ll be all over soon.

The morning bird’s cry ripped through the silence, shattering the silence. I pulled my shirt over my head, doing anything to drown out the wretched shrieking. The forsaken bird sounded off once again, ending any hopes of extending my rest. The morning was upon us, and I had matters to tend to. I whipped out of bed and headed over to his house. He always warns us to be ready for anything, so we all sleep in our work clothes. It just makes more sense.

Upon arriving, I saw he had company over in the sitting room. I hurried over to the dining room and quickly made the table, bringing out the correct utensils and placing them on the correct sides that the other house workers showed me. The maids and I pulled the chairs out for his friends, quickly scooting away to our prospective places around the corners of the room. The cooks brought in the food and handed us our various pitchers; which we used to fill the guests drinks should they down it quickly. And quickly did they down it. What a strange hour to be drinking, I thought. The table of guests continued their loud conversation, but something was amiss in their joyous exchange. These bouts of laughter and conversation were interrupted by untimely bouts of silence, with each successive one growing longer and quieter.

After brunch, the party took their leave and went outside to tour the grounds. I found this particularly odd; the entire group were faces I’d noted before, and had all been here many times. However, my curiosity was wiped away by the work in my very near future. The maids and I cleaned the dishes by hand, and began preparing for what we expected to be another feast in the afternoon. We couldn’t have been more wrong.

When the party returned, we had prepped the table and the accompanying meal. The food smelled wonderful, and my very footsteps contained the pride of the cooks in this meal. However, gone was the forced laughter and the humorous stories. The faces of the group was lined with anxiety and fear, and my silent footsteps caused the one nearest to jump as I laid the food in the middle of the table.

I heard a scream from across the field. It pierced the veil of the house, and shook it’s very core. The group froze, and I heard utensils dropping to the floor around me. Two members of the party sprinted for the door, and nearly tore the hinges off fleeing the house. After a short period of time we spent in stunned silence, the hinges came off the rest of the house and the life I had become accustomed to.

The entire house was shaking, as if all the winds of the world came together to blow us down. The pictures came off the walls, the candles were overturned, the chandelier crashed down onto the table. The yelling and screaming increasingly intensified, and the people inside the house scampered off in several directions. I followed a cook as he made his way outside, and took off running for the wooded area. I kept close behind him, only throwing a glance back to view the carnage that lay behind me. The house had gone up in smoke, and several others I had shared my living space with were brandishing torches and waving them about about. The cook and I stopped at the edge of the wood and watched as the house came tumbling down, and listened as the yelling of the others filled the void of the night.

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