I Just Want to Go Home (standard:other, 1661 words)
Author: Quinn	Added: Aug 27 2001	Views/Reads: 3289/2231	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
This story is about a young black girl. She is a slave and is traveling on a boat to another land that she doesn't know of. She is coming from her homeland and doesn't know English or what is even going on. It is written in a Diary type form.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

again. Haithati 
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ 

I woke up sick to my shrunken stomach. But I do not care because Tishka
is back! He had been sick and unable to move. I am just glad he is all 
right. Once again he is here to take care of me. And because of the 
sickness the big men above have locked us down and have continued to 
throw little food. No more sunshine or fresh air. 

Sometimes I heave and nothing comes out, because I have not eaten.
Tishka says I am a pile of bones that needs some food. I tell him he is 
right. I think that is very true. I often wonder where it is we are 
going? We can’t sail on forever, can we? I hope wherever it is we are 
going is better than this ship. I cannot stand the rocking, the foul 
smells, the death and loneliness anymore. My stomach is uneasy and I 
drink as much water as I can. In the night he calls me because he is 
ill. When I ask him he tells me to rest. Until the day, Haithati 
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ 

I haven’t written in weeks! Since last time I have gotten better and so
has Tishka. We are not in that horrible slave ship anymore. We stopped 
in a harbor and were dragged out. No one refused. They locked us in a 
dark, damp chamber and left us there. We have fresh bread and water! 
Clean hay and new air to breathe. There are plenty less of us now. 
Tishka is what keeps me going. If not for him I would have given up. I 
do not complain when they kick or spit at me, because I know in doing 
so, I will receive worse treatment as others have already learned. I 
don’t know what they say when they yell at us, but I know they are 
angry with us for some reason. The floor is hard and cold. My rags and 
tatters of cloth do not help but to keep me hardly covered. Even when 
they come and kick us for no reason I try not to flinch. Tishka was 
taken and beaten badly. He is back bloodier than ever. He will live. 
That much I know. I hold his hand and talk to him in a hushed voice. He 
calls me over and over, “Haithati, Hathati...” He says. Until the day, 
Haithati. 
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ 

I don’t think I can go on. My hands are blistered and raw. The blisters
puss up and my hands always ache. The flesh of them peel everyday from 
the work I do. Senselessly smashing rocks. My back is so sore from them 
working us all day. I cannot move and they whip me. I hurt too much to 
even flinch and my mouth so dry I cannot even cry out. Sores on my back 
are gashes and probably infected also. I lay on my stomach and Tishka 
comforts me always. Most of the slaves, for that is what we are now, 
die of hunger and exhaustion. Welts are a part of me as dirt is. I feel 
pain when I breathe and move. What have I done to deserve this torture? 
I think I am catching the disease death. I will give in. Haithati. 
~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~ 

It is Tishka. Haithati is on her deathbed and she cannot write. She
cannot walk. I write for her. These are her words... 

I don’t think I will live. I pray that I don’t make it, for I cannot
endure the pain any longer. Tishka will be alone I know, unless he 
decides to give in too. I hope he doesn’t. I am only living for him. I 
lied in the chamber all day. It is no life for anyone. Although we are 
now back on a ship more slaves have been gathered. My story is now back 
at the beginning. I call it my story because this is not a life. I am 
back in a ship I will give up. This is my last page. Some other slave 
stole the rest while I was diseased. Which I still am. If I die being a 
slave to these people, I will have no honor when I die working. If I go 
now and be free I shall be happy. We still take care of each other. 
Well I talk and he listens. Tishka and Haithati. I always wanted to 
hear that. I have promised I will wait for him in the other world. Hugs 
and kisses are always followed by comforting and soothing words. I tell 
my story and I doubt anyone except bugs and dirt will find this. Tishka 
can keep it for as long as he lives. And still that may not be much 
longer than I. My life before the ship is gone from on paper, but not 
from my heart and mind. I do not know what this is the beginning of or 
why they came to my country and took my loved ones away from me. I do 
not know why I have been forced to live this way. Now I am going. I am 
leaving this earth. One last thing I can tell you is, just like anyone 
here, I just want to go home. 


Tweet