There I was: on my knees, with my head held low.
I looked up to see a man; but I could not see his face.
The sun was shining straight down from behind his head.
I opened my mouth, and words flowed out that were not my own.
I spoke, “Master, have mercy on me.”
He looked down upon my and growled,
“Child, you are my slave. And I show no mercy to slaves.”
He glared down upon me with scarlet eyes that sent shivers down my spine.
I continued to looked down, and noticed that there was something written upon my arm.
I moved my sleeve to see; that in black ink was written, “Property of …”
It was strange; I could not see the name! The ink was had been smudged!
I looked up to the man, whom I called my master, to see him holding a whip and dagger.
He grabbed me, and whispered into my ear, “Beg for mercy, child, BEG!”
I awoke with such a fright!
What horrible deed will I commit that I am sold into a sentence of slavery?
Whom do I serve? And why does he torture me so?
Is it because he enjoys seeing the fear flood my eyes, or does he despise me?
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