Dystopian Short Story
Betrayal of Freedom
Here I am again; working for another rich family to do their labour. I hate having no freedom. I have been owned by different rich families ever since I was born. I am now 16, 17 in a month, I think. I kind of lose track. I never met my parents. They were slaves for other folks so I guess I won’t ever get to meet them. I don’t get jealous of the rich families though. They got no respect; the young spoilt, spiteful children treat me like a piece of shit on their shoe. I can’t do nothing though, us whites get hung for disrespecting the family, for all I know my parents could’ve been dangled dead years ago.
So recently I have been thinking a lot of my escape. I am worried that somewhere along the way, I will be caught, and sent back to my Master. I do not want this. Going back would mean a severe beating, and my back would be even more marked up than it already is. No, I need to have this planned out carefully before I leave. I will travel only at night, and hide during the day. I must make no mistakes. My future is at stake. I can’t take being cramped in this cold crowded hut with ten… no, nine, now Mikey has been hung out the back. They will celebrate and burn his body later. He got hung for swearing in front of one of the kids. The ironic thing is the kid launched three darts at him, two hitting and pushing through his weak skin and sticking in him, the other around the crotch whilst shouting “BULLSEYE”. I’d avoid going in to detail. Our rights are constantly discriminated. When it rains the shelter is useless, so it is impossible to sleep which makes the days more difficult being so sleep deprived. We had to build it ourselves with little materials to use. Our roof is poorly thatched, our beds made of straw and old rags. Cooking over a water-logged wet stove with pots and pans we made ourselves simply just does not work. We are given one ragged pair of shoes, and three pairs of underwear each year. You are lucky if your clothing actually
Here I am again; working for another rich family to do their labour. I hate having no freedom. I have been owned by different rich families ever since I was born. I am now 16, 17 in a month, I think. I kind of lose track. I never met my parents. They were slaves for other folks so I guess I won’t ever get to meet them. I don’t get jealous of the rich families though. They got no respect; the young spoilt, spiteful children treat me like a piece of shit on their shoe. I can’t do nothing though, us whites get hung for disrespecting the family, for all I know my parents could’ve been dangled dead years ago.
So recently I have been thinking a lot of my escape. I am worried that somewhere along the way, I will be caught, and sent back to my Master. I do not want this. Going back would mean a severe beating, and my back would be even more marked up than it already is. No, I need to have this planned out carefully before I leave. I will travel only at night, and hide during the day. I must make no mistakes. My future is at stake. I can’t take being cramped in this cold crowded hut with ten… no, nine, now Mikey has been hung out the back. They will celebrate and burn his body later. He got hung for swearing in front of one of the kids. The ironic thing is the kid launched three darts at him, two hitting and pushing through his weak skin and sticking in him, the other around the crotch whilst shouting “BULLSEYE”. I’d avoid going in to detail. Our rights are constantly discriminated. When it rains the shelter is useless, so it is impossible to sleep which makes the days more difficult being so sleep deprived. We had to build it ourselves with little materials to use. Our roof is poorly thatched, our beds made of straw and old rags. Cooking over a water-logged wet stove with pots and pans we made ourselves simply just does not work. We are given one ragged pair of shoes, and three pairs of underwear each year. You are lucky if your clothing actually