A Black Slave In 1886

• Ethan Wong, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

I am on the floor, its cold and full of hay as tears pour out of my eyes from the hay and lashes I had got from my master. The lights emanating from his window, warmth and comfort I can imagine. I hear them getting drunk, tipsy and start wobbling like loose screws going nuts. They start vomiting food and alcohol gushing out and I look away in discus. I barely get any sleep like a nocturnal owl and keep tossing and turning. I feel the pins and needles killing my leg because of the narrow position I slept in. As I crack my spine the slim man walks to me and pulls me out onto the contaminated dirt full of manure. I stand their hopelessly as the man grabs his whip out. He draws it out as the leather intimidates my kind and lashes me to get out. The blood drizzling out of my back dripping onto the floor that my ancestors had worked on. I arrive at my golden destination were I can finally rest but Earth hates me as I have another trip to make. I plead for a brake and some water but instead I am ignored and hit. I get back to my place as my master checks each of us one by one and recounts to be 110% and we are feed our little meals. I chomp into my food like their is no tomorrow and lick out all the sauces left behind as a long day of work requires me to keep my strength up. I dream that one day some one will redeem us for our freedom, to re-build our lives into the impossible. But as I stare out I see my future darken as my master blows out the candles and shackle us up. SHREEEEK, as my rusty door closes and the clicks in the lock turn. I peek out of a hole in my door and look out at the night sky, stars twinkling and the moons smile is a frown of disappointment. My kind are judged because of who we are, we are all black are forbidden from having any rights. A shift up to have a better view at my masters house, the white clean paint with crystal clear windows and beautiful mosaic tiled foot path. I slept well and I hear metal grinding as my door is open and my master pulls me out. I stand on my feet strong as his daughter chuckles and walks up to me. His daughter is soft, kind and has golden locks just like her mother. His daughter takes care of me by brushing the tangled pieces of hair I have and feeding me sweet green apples. She hops on my back as I head to a mountain were my master waits for his precious platinum to land in his arms. I lay down and breath in the fresh air breezing against my face. After all I am a horse and I can’t do anything to change my doomsday life.