*Hey guys...this something i did for a history project last year. even then, i had to split into six parts. Pls vote, comment and FAN!!! Criticism is appreciated (tho not too harsh). But if u hate the story just tell me and i wont bother putting up the other parts. So here is part 1:
It has been many, many years - ten years in fact since my escape from slavery and I have decided to record what happened to me. I'm sorry if you are appalled by anything in this diary but every single word here is true, not modified in any way. Let's begin with a bit of background info. My name is Blossom Washington but that was the name given to me. I'll elaborate more on that later. My real name though, the name I was born with is Zahra. I can't remember my surname, it was something hard to spell and pronounce. My name is actually East African even though I was born and brought up in West African Nigeria because my mother was actually Kenyan. My mother told me that my name meant blossom. That was the reason I later took the name Blossom.
I was twelve years old when I was captured with my mother and my eight year old sister Zaina. Luckily for my father, he was out working at that time or he would have been captured too. We were captured one day when our house caught fire along with all the other houses in our neighbourhood. I being young then didn't know this was done on purpose to catch slaves. I asked my mother what was happening and she told me that everything was going to be okay. That was the last thing she ever said.
We ran out of the house and ran straight into the arms of an African man, who was my father's best friend, called Kunle. He caught my arm and my mother's hands. I tried to ask him what was happening but when a single word popped out of my mouth he slapped me. I can still feel that slap stinging me even now. My mother screamed and started kicking him. Suddenly, another African man, who I assumed was the leader, came over and asked her to stop screaming or he would cut out her tongue. Mother stop, I pleaded silently but she continued screaming and he cut out her tongue. It was the most ruthless thing I had ever seen and I still have dreams of the sight of my mother broken and bleeding on the ground. Even though tears streamed down my face, I stared at both of them with a look of contempt which said 'how could you ever do such a thing?' The look must have worked because Kunle flinched and the other man's features softened for a brief second before hardening again.
My sister couldn't stop yelling. No one could stop her, not even I who she would normally listen to. But these weren't normal circumstances. In fact, nothing would ever be normal again. My whole life had turned upside down from that one day.
*sorry that was so short but that was the original and i didn't want to change anything. Cheers! Don't forget to comment pls=)*
YOU ARE READING
Diary of a SlaveHistorical Fiction
My name is Blossom but years ago, I used to be a slave with a different name. I was taken from my home and was forced to watch it burn down. My mother's tongue got cut off right in front off me and I was stripped naked, branded like an animal and so...