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Hiding from the rain.
Posted 11 years agoWhy do people hide from the rain?
Is it because it's wet or cold?
Or is it because it holds something we don't know?
Do we hid from it cause it is dreary?
Or that we fear it?
Or are we just scared of being alone in the rain.
Kydust
Am I Losing My Sanity?
Posted 12 years agoAm I Losing my Sanity?
"Fire!!!" shouts the Captain of the British Brigade 3rd Force as eight men pull the triggers of their rifles. Instantly killing five men convicted as an African spy; waiting patiently beside the British Captain, I watched the horror of my fellow countrymen die before my eyes. Since I ‘am the one that hauls their dead bodies away with my wheelbarrow, I keep thinking "Thank God I'm not in their places!" How did this all begin? I shall tell you from the beginning, to the middle, to the end of my sanity.
It all began when I was turning 19, entering my manhood years. My name was Hussein Mustafa, before it was changed to Wheelbarrow Boy, who hauls away things. I was sold to the British Force as chore boy, to do cleaning, cooking and laundry work. In spite of all this work I was quite happy and content with my life, but that soon changed and went downhill from there.
Eventually I started seeing things that horrified me, seeing men slaughtered before my eyes. Men getting killed for turning traitor to the British Colony, and misbehaviour. Even women were killed, raped, or forced to perform crude things before men. Soon I was having nightmares each night about death and violence. Every day I would stand next to the Captain waiting on his orders to tell me to carry away the dead, and every day I would.
Consequently I would find myself beaten for a job that wasn't done properly or quick enough. Thus I started hating the British for who they were and what they did. If I refused an order I was beaten, if I said anything offensive, I was starved and then beaten yet again. Slowly I started seeing everyone as my nemesis, hating anyone that came near me or tried to talking to me.
Soon the Captain gave the order that I was to be executed by firing in the morning. Fear coursed through my body as the sun slowly started to rise in the distance, and then I hear a sound that makes my heart go cold. The sound of boots marching to my cell door, the tinkling of keys, the lock unlocking with a grinding noise and then the flood of light as the door was opened.
I'm marched out to the parade ground, and shoved against the same wall that took many of men and woman’s lives. The Captain asks if I wish to be blindfolded, I say yes. Before the blindfold was put on I saw a boy waiting at the side with the same wheelbarrow I used. I prayed to God that what is happening to me does not happen to him.
The blindfold goes on, the guns are cocked, the order goes out, and I am gone....
The End
Thank you for reading this story; hope to hear of what you think!
"Fire!!!" shouts the Captain of the British Brigade 3rd Force as eight men pull the triggers of their rifles. Instantly killing five men convicted as an African spy; waiting patiently beside the British Captain, I watched the horror of my fellow countrymen die before my eyes. Since I ‘am the one that hauls their dead bodies away with my wheelbarrow, I keep thinking "Thank God I'm not in their places!" How did this all begin? I shall tell you from the beginning, to the middle, to the end of my sanity.
It all began when I was turning 19, entering my manhood years. My name was Hussein Mustafa, before it was changed to Wheelbarrow Boy, who hauls away things. I was sold to the British Force as chore boy, to do cleaning, cooking and laundry work. In spite of all this work I was quite happy and content with my life, but that soon changed and went downhill from there.
Eventually I started seeing things that horrified me, seeing men slaughtered before my eyes. Men getting killed for turning traitor to the British Colony, and misbehaviour. Even women were killed, raped, or forced to perform crude things before men. Soon I was having nightmares each night about death and violence. Every day I would stand next to the Captain waiting on his orders to tell me to carry away the dead, and every day I would.
Consequently I would find myself beaten for a job that wasn't done properly or quick enough. Thus I started hating the British for who they were and what they did. If I refused an order I was beaten, if I said anything offensive, I was starved and then beaten yet again. Slowly I started seeing everyone as my nemesis, hating anyone that came near me or tried to talking to me.
Soon the Captain gave the order that I was to be executed by firing in the morning. Fear coursed through my body as the sun slowly started to rise in the distance, and then I hear a sound that makes my heart go cold. The sound of boots marching to my cell door, the tinkling of keys, the lock unlocking with a grinding noise and then the flood of light as the door was opened.
I'm marched out to the parade ground, and shoved against the same wall that took many of men and woman’s lives. The Captain asks if I wish to be blindfolded, I say yes. Before the blindfold was put on I saw a boy waiting at the side with the same wheelbarrow I used. I prayed to God that what is happening to me does not happen to him.
The blindfold goes on, the guns are cocked, the order goes out, and I am gone....
The End
Thank you for reading this story; hope to hear of what you think!
