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The Rescue

This is something I wrote looong back for a weekly writing contest which was hosted on Goodreads (love the site!).

The Challenge-to go back in time! write a song/poem/short story on something that has to do with a previous age. From the 60’s to the 1700’s to the beginning of modern civilization , your choice. Fiction or non-fiction, doesn’t matter.
My Short Story

Title: The Rescue.
Genre: Short Story.
Description: About forced labour in the 1960’s
 
Sitting by the fireplace, I let the warmth surround me. I let my mind wander, away from the pain and grief that threatened to consume my mind. Often had I thought, what life would be like in the future, but never had I expected to be a victim of forced labour. Gone are those days, when my only concern was to be the best at school, at home. Now all I pray for is to be freed from bearing this crime. I hear soft footsteps coming my way and thinking it must be the landlord, I resume my work of dusting this place.
“Annabell”, I hear someone whisper my name. Last time I was caught talking and not working, I was lashed  with the whip. Tears had rolled down my red face as I begged them to stop. Ignoring my plea, they had hit harder and harder, removing their frustration and anger on me, as if I was a sack of grain with no feelings whatsoever. The wound all over my body, instead of healing, seemed to grow more and more everyday, almost like a curse. I wondered, what wrong must I have committed to deserve this kind of punishment and torture?.
“Annabell!!” I heard the voice again, a little more anxious and impatient this time. Afraid to be caught again, I turned my head slightly, to peek over my shoulder and found Edmund and all my friends from the village,  peeping into the room. He motioned to me, beckoning me to come nearer. Reluctantly, I walked to them and asked, “What are you all doing here? You must leave now!The landlords are all sleeping!.” He replied on all of their behalf – “We are here to get you out of this place, Anna.” I was going to refuse when a thought occurred my mind. If I got out now, I could probably, live the rest of my life, safe and secure far away. Also, I might be able to rescue my mother and father and we’d be able to live happily. But if I refused, I would be stuck here for the rest of my life until some landlord got fed up and killed me. Then I wouldn’t be able to protect my parents, like I promised them I would. This was my only hope at getting somewhere and I refused to let it go. The offer was very tempting and for the sake of my parents, I agreed. I ran to the backyard where I saved my stash of money which I stole from them. I might as well make use of it now that I was leaving and at not cost would I come back even if it meant I would be killed on the spot, that is if I was ever caught.
Separated at the age of 17, I was taken to the city where only the rich lived. At first , I did not understand what was happening. Then later I came to know that I had been sold of to some landlord in the city just like my parents had been sold off.
Thinking about it, anger bubbled through me and impulsively, I grabbed a piece of firewood and set the curtain on fire. Then the furniture and  the paintings. One by one the whole room was on fire. I ran outside where my friends were waiting for me. Together, we all fled from the city. The entire mansion was now  a giant ball of fire against the pleasant moonlight in the sky. I turned back, looking at the mansion completely consumed in fire and cursed all the residents. The feeling of freedom was liberating and I finally knew that now, I would be able to live in peace.
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