Death of the Slave.

Someone shoved him roughly. As he gained consciousness he realized that he and the other slaves in the room were bound and some of them including the person next to him had been thrashed badly.

As his head cleared he recalled what had happened. The roman soldiers had broken into his shack and had taken his wife and two children as captives, and then spilled oil over his house and put it on fire. There was a horrendous scream as his wife and children were beheaded. The last unforgettable sight, passed in front of his eyes again, as he saw his shack obliterated and demolished by the unquenchable fire. He had howled, giving way to the darkness.

“What is your name?” the slave next to him asked.

“Hashar,” he replied.

“Why have they brought us here?” Hashar asked. “For entertainment,” he replied.

“How are we supposed to provide entertainment when we are tied up here?” was his next irritating question.

“See it yourself,” the black slave replied, indicating a gap in the wall .Hashar shifted himself with his tied hands and what he saw through the gap made him gulp .The slaves were made to battle a soldier in full armour with heavy weapons while they were only allowed a weapon each. All the Romans were seated around the arena, cheering and taking pleasure in the fight. But what Hashar heard was the sound of living hatred, devoured lives, broken souls and bodies being ripped apart. He would have to face the same end, he thought, just as the guards entered to take him to the fight.

 

There was an uproar as he entered the arena from a broad passage way. He had been handed a sword which was the only weapon he could use to guard himself from harm. As his competitor came near, he faced him with courage. The battle started.

Hashar swung his sword in a sinister fashion trying to scare his opponent but without warning the soldier cut a gash on his arm. It was like his bones were on fire. It made him wince but he had to master his pain, fear and everything that could cause a distraction in the fight. The soldier assaulted, but Hashar blocked .

He fought with determination and intrepidness but he was no match for the soldier. The soldier attacked again and Hashar blocked but this time he was not so lucky, the next thing he knew there was a sword in his stomach and he was gasping for breath. He collapsed, all sounds muffled, but the slave did not care, for his thoughts were not with dying but they were far above that, with his family, with his children, with his caring mother, all in a garden talking happily. He fell upon his hand, drops of blood ebbing slowly from his wound. He then stared in space, reaching the same end like his family, heaven.

 

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