The road to my revolution, A slave’s diary:
Month 1: The sale of a new slave.
I’m awakened with a sharp slap to my cheek, the cool air stings my taut limbs as I dangle aimlessly from a long chain. The chain is long enough that I am on the floor but just short enough to prevent my escape, with a torturous intent on breaking my will. Today is the day that I am sold, like cattle with no rights and barely the will to speak. My name is, Etris. Etris Domica Corinis.
Or at least it was until I was captured. My life before slavery, is a memory long lost amongst the torture and beatings to break me. I was a farmer, on the borders of a neighboring province that was under siege by roman legionnaires. I remember bloodshed, and the pain in my side as I was knocked unconscious by a roman soldier, The last thing is saw under his helm was cold unfeeling eyes. Trained to kill.
Back to the present, where I find myself at now – in a room with people being slowly dragged out by chains, I recognize a few of my fellow country men as they walk past- hope all but lost. A guard comes for me next- he looks at me with disdain in his eyes and spits, actually spits. “ sporcizia”. Filth. Thats is all I am degraded to as i am hauled out to the markets with the others, the future is all that awaits me now.
Month 2 : The fields in which my freedom grows.
I was lucky enough to be sold to a wealthy patrician who works in the senate. I spend my long days working with my fellow brothers in the fields, guards keeping an eye on us as we work, to make sure that we don’t escape. We eat very little, while the foods that we cultivate are used for lavish parties for the masters co- workers and their wives. Most of the food we have to haul out again, unable to touch or eat any in fear of losing limbs. So much food wasted, and for an ungrateful pig that whips his slaves and starves them, while we suffer- under his cruel reign.
Month 3: Revolution, but at what cost ?
Rumor amongst the slaves have grown from murmurs to wakes, a man named Spartacus is rallying all those who wish to join the revolt. I am well used to the life of a slave now, freedom all but a foreign concept. Besides once a slave, you are your masters for life- unless he grants you freedom, fat chance of that happening in my case. I’m thinking about the revolt -I wish to be free so much, but at what cost to I value my life.
Month 4: A lesson learned is a person punished.
The days are longer, more guards are hired, slaves that I befriended in the fields have been slaughtered for trying to escape. My owner make a show of it, executing them in out fields on crucifixes. They hang there even now – 3 weeks after their death, out in the fields, a reminder of what awaited those who wish to be liberated. The fields stink like death making the days even longer and my stomach weaker with every glance.
When will this war end ? Spartacus wants freedom- but how many lives will it cost ?- death is ever present on this road to my revolution.
Danielle Parrish (c) 2016