Narrator.

ploughing the fields of the gurmund estate was never easy on poor Samuel, even if he has done it ever since he was born.

Samuel wasn't normal. You see, that boy was nearing his 22nd birthday which was in the current month -july- but he didn't even think about.

Don't blame him. he is a slave after all. in his mind he knew that his lowly life's continuation isn't something to celebrate.

what Samuel was thinking about was to finish his work and get some rest, but he knew that rest only meant more work afterwards.

it clearly became a rut and he knew that his death wouldn't matter to anyone even his fellow slaves.

these poisonous thoughts would pester him every now and then, and they would slow him down involuntarily which would lead to meeting the whip.

Crack!.

Crack!.

Crack!.

the whip cracked three times on his back waking him up from his thoughts.

"step on it mutt!" the warden yelled " this field won't plough itself!" he followed with another crack in the the air to empathize his point.

Samuel bit his lower lip as to not scream from the pain.

his top was sliced off and hung on just by minute fibers. his back had five bloody lines on it two clogged and three fresh.

as for the scars, his back was like a used up canvas there wasn't a piece of fair skin on it.

warm sanguine blood seeped out of the fresh cuts and continued flowing on his back, but Samuel couldn't care less he had to finish his work.

Samuel continued with bloodshot eyes his internal fury negated the pain and exhaustion and he ploughed through the land as if it was made of cake.

***

Samuel.

I sat down on the bed sheet that was laid on the ground.

I didn't sleep with the others as their smell is pungent and their snores are louder than the mooing of cows.

my back was still hurt and I couldn't find any spare bandages so I had to endure the pain.

it was midnight and I was sleeping outside, no one was around.

the tears began rolling down my cheeks as I rested my head in my hands. I couldn't stop myself anymore.

I screamed at the top of my lungs, and my tears fell onto the ground.

"why is my life like this, why should I be miserable, why can't I be something greater, why can't I own not be owned." I yelled.

22 years of life passed. and I can't remember any of them. I can't remember neither the happy moments nor the painful ones.

It is void.

My life that is.

the gurmunds are my masters and I am their slave.

oh wait, I am less than a slave, there is over 1500 slaves in this plot of land alone and I heard from some guards talking that is about another 3 plots that are even bigger than this and 2 that are smaller.

I am only one in the many, my life is useless and my death is the normal.

I don't even have a name.

I have lived here since the moment I came to the world out of my mother's womb.

I have been told by others that my parents couldn't bear living any longer in here and they killed themselves.

Others didn't know my name as my parents kept quiet about my birth and before they suicided they left me in the hut they lived in and my cries made its way through the walls and the veil of the night into the ears of others.

they checked around and found me out. they found that I had some resemblance to them and they assumed that I might be their son.

they informed the local manager and t threw me into the house of another slave family.

that family didn't even name me or treat me like a son, I got the smallest ration of food servings everyday.

It was two slices of barley bread.

the normal was 5 slices a person.

every slave family gets a single loaf daily.

a loaf can make 24 slices.

and if they add the leftovers from the day previous there would be 30 slices left in the house.

I gritted my teeth remembering how meagre that was.

Currently, I get 5 slices daily. that is a great amount especially when you know that a single slave with no family would get 4 slices only.

my tears didn't stop rolling and my teeth gnashed against eachother.

all I could ask myself was what now?.

am I always going to stay in this loop.

when are things going-.

Rustle.

I snapped my eyes open and looked for the source of the sound.

I hoped that it would be some kind of rodent moving around as if it wasn't a rodent then it would be a guard, if it was a guard then I am in trouble.

I moved my head right and left to catch a glimpse of the sound source, I stood up trying to look for it.

Then it came by itself.

out of the inky darkness the figure stepped into the silver moonlight.

the moonlight left no detail unseen.

the figure was a boy with almond eyes and dirty bruised face, his hair was black but it gradually turned into grey towards it end, his left eye was inflamed and turned violet due to being punched and his right cheek had yet another bruise which caused it to redden.

he wore a top that could only be described as an old discarded towel, its left side hung loosely from his boney shoulder due to few single fibers, and his pants were in no better shape, it looked like the fabric was infused with dirt and the lower part of the pants were 'gnawed'.

as I looked at the gnawed part of the pants my eyes drifted subconsciously and focused on his feet.

a pair of feet with nothing to protect against the earth, the toenails were brown and probably filled with whatever earth had in it and the soles of his feet were mixed with brown and red.

his feet bled and quenched the ground below him , I couldn't fathom the pain he was feeling but what amazed me was that he went through all of it and still didn't show a single sign of pain.

from his shape I knew what this kind of creature was.

"what are you doing here, slave?" I asked with a cautious look who knows what that boy had in stock, I must be ready to flee at a moment's notice.

" I...I was walking back to the village but I heard screaming along the way and I decided to check it out sir!" he stuttered it could be seen that he wasn't lying.

" I am no 'sir' I am just a slave like you." I informed " I was just thinking about life and such." I sighed, then followed up with a question " but I want to know about you, what turned you into such a mess?"

" the other kids." he said with a sense of sadness.

I beckoned to him in order to let him come over and sit, I sat down as well.

" don't be that upset about something like that, hey I too was getting bullied when I was your age." I assured him.

life in here was hard and this boy didn't look the type to fight on everything like the dumb mutts. I immediately took a liking to him.

" speaking about age, how old are you slave?"

"10 years old sir.".

"don't 'sir' me.".

"then what should I address you by sir?".

"Samuel."

he looked at me as if I grew a horn in my forehead.

" Sir you have a name?!" he exclaimed.

that's right slaves have no names.

they strip all your rights. even your own name.

" I wasn't born with it but I named myself." I replied.

"is there a reason for that?".

" if you mean why I named myself Samuel, then it is because I heard that name before and I felt it was a name that only the mighty could have."

" but if you're asking why did I name myself, it is because I don't want to stay stuck in this shithole until I die."

" hey what about it do you have a name?".

he looked down as to not show me his face.

at that moment I knew he had a name.

"come ooooon say it, I even told you my name!" I teased.

" my..".

" my... na..".

" my name is Andre!".

he finally said it!.

" that's a good name." I showed him my sincere feelings.

Andre, it was a nice name that could be remembered by anyone and it even had a ring to it, what a wise choice for a boy of 10!.

" how did you come up with it?." I inquired.

" some boys were trying to come up with different names and I overheard them and when Andre was said it really resonated with me." he spilled the tea.

" I wanted to ask you ' Samuel ', why were you crying?.".

" I have never cried but twice." I said with a stern look on my face, my eyes focused on ' Andre' as much as possible.

" once when I was thrown out by the family that adopted me at the young age of 12 , and twice was now when all my pent up feelings exploded." I stated.

" pent up?" he asked with a curious look.

" Yes, pent up." I repeated.

looks like Andre is questioning my feelings.

" what do you mean by 'pent up'?".

"what?" I was caught off guard.

" I really don't know the meaning." he said frankly.

it seems that I forgot that me, him and all the slaves were illiterate.

it was normal for him not to know the meaning of a word he never heard before.

my brows spread apart and folds appeared on my forehead.

"I..I really don't know how to explain this, but it is like when you have a balloon and you fill it with too much air that it explodes that is what 'pent up' means." I said, that was a very good and easy to understand explanation.

Andre cleared his throat.

Ahem.

" I am sorry but..what is a 'balloon'?" .

...

.....

what is a what?

what is a balloon??.

how much did this kid not know?!?!.

" it is really easy, really like a balloon is something that..." I stopped midsentence.

" a balloon is something that..."

my hands were going to visualize the ' balloon' fell down to rest on my knees.

my eyes were dead.

" a balloon is ...".

" it is...".

" what is a balloon?" I asked the 10 year old boy.

he looked in my eyes with pity.

I looked in his eyes with shame.

a tear formed on my left eye and rolled down.

I couldn't even make a single noise.

a minute passed.

"you see, Andre, that is why we have to get the hell out of here.". I changed the subject.

he nodded.

" but how are we going to do that won't they stop us or at least try to track us?" he queried.

" as for tracking us, they won't they get at least 5 slaves daily in his plot of land, the sudden disappearance of 2 won't make a difference." I refuted.

" plus, we won't just escape normally we will make a show and that show is going to prevent them from stopping or following us." I added.

" what kind of show?" he inquired with a look of curiosity.

" an arson ,Andre, a damn arson!" I threw my hands in the air and spoke with enthusiasm.

" we are going to burn the place?" Andre queried yet again.

" yes, yes we are." I responded.

" so are you in?" I asked.

"me?" he scoffed " I am in hook, line and sinker!".

" now that's what I am talking about!" our hands met and formed an arm wrestling gesture as a way of showing of enthusiasm.

his hand was around half mine but his smile was as big as mine.

I pulled my hand away and took a deep breath.

" now we have to plan." my face turned serious.

Andre didn't expect that immediate change but he went with the flow, " what are we going to burn exactly?".

I bent my leg and rested my elbow on my knee then leaned back used my right arm to stop myself from going all the way back.

" basically in order for us to have the smoothest escape possible we need a commotion." I began relaying the details.

" and the easiest commotion that we -slaves- can make is an arson."

" it most definitely won't be a simple arson too, we have to distract the guards that are around the perimeter of the farm enough so that we have a chance to make a run for it when they leave their posts."

" but that may have a lot of variables." Andre questioned.

" it ,indeed, has numerous variables, but anything else won't work. like do you have any other suggestions?" I asked him contemptuously.

"..." he muted and just looked at me while he was sitting with his legs crossed.

" as expected." I smirked sarcastically.

" I am only 10, you know." he argued.

" 10 in here means that you are an adult smartass." I rebuked.

" o..ok ok, then where are we going to attack and how." he quickly changed the subject.

I didn't continue scorning.

he was going to be my partner it is better to have an amiable relationship.

" well that is what I was going to get into just now.".

I continued explaining the plan.