Transport to Hell

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Transport to Hell

Post by JLHxXxX » Sat 16th Jun 2012

WARNING: Not for the faint hearts and stomachs. This is realistic, and may be offensive or upset some people. There IS RACISM: That's the whole story. It's about the Trade Triangle when slaves were transported by the hundreds out of Africa. It's the POV of a girl being dragged into this. There is some slight offensive language... but not too much. I'd say it's rated PG.

Twenty four years ago, my world ended.

In the time it takes to blink, I was captured in shackles of heavy chains, locked in cages as an animal would, trapped on a ruthless disease-ridden ship and sold off to the filthy white men themselves.

It was my brother, Eok, and I setting out to do a day of gathering fruits and select herbs. We had been advised to keep our eye out and we were ever so cautious – weapons drawn at the simply snap of a weak twig.

Then, they appeared. They stuck out in the dark of woods so blatantly it hurt my eyes. Their shiny barrels, known as guns, were pointed at us in several directions. I hiked up my skirt and fled, across fields and through thick woods. Neither of us could ever shake them off for the mercy of Allah, until I was circled by five hideous men. Their breath reeked of tobacco and hints of last night’s alcohol.

Two stepped forward towards my thrashing, wild body and my hands were encased in heavy metal bracelets. No matter how much I yanked at the chains, they held fast and as my exhaustion grew – they became closer.

They had watched me as one would two ravaged dogs fighting in their pens of metal wire fences and torment of their owners with whips and guns. They slashed my back open, they practically pressed the bullet against my temple with threats.

I was a dog, simply there for money and possibly entertainment.

There is nothing to describe the simple sight of dozens of my people lined up in heavy chains and shackles, being pushed along with the sharp slash of whips into their backs. White and black men alike pushed along the soon-to-be slaves. However, I had heard tales. I knew some of them were embraced by the merciful and all powerful Allah.

I was added onto the train along with Eok behind me. At night they traded my clothing for scraps of old rags that barely covered my own chest and areas no man should see with virgin eyes.

After not even an hour of rest, we marched along in unison through our homelands. Dread grew rapidly in my stomach as the roar of the river met my ears. Then, the trees opened to a large bank. The men were everywhere, some simply lashing at the slaves for pure enjoyment. The sand was hot beneath my bare feet and I suddenly felt naked next to the hundred or so blacks arranged in about a dozen hut-sized wooden cages. Our line was filed into one of the emptier ones and I couldn’t even catch myself as the dominoes collapsed all around me. I inhaled a lungful of sand before spitting the rest out and slowly sitting up off the ground. Moans echoed all around me in despair and agony from the numerous open wounds.

“Kateko.” Eok mumbled from my left. He was struggling into a sitting position, ribs and muscles alike sticking out from his sweat glistened skin. “Hold tight.” He advised.
I nodded. “I’m… scared.” My voice cracked into a low whisper. “What will our fates be?”

“Our fates will be as they will be.” Eok frowned. “I am sorry, Kateko. We should have stayed closer to the village.”

“Be sorry for nothing!” I spat. An elder man landed on me with a choking gasp. I inched away from the scene slightly. “We will survive this. Right?”

Eok couldn’t answer. A silence swallowed me, even among the chaos surrounding me. They would’ve been on top of each other had all the collapsing not occurred in any possible direction.

I couldn’t focus as the time ticked along and the sun crawled over and into the early evening hours before a ship came into view. It was vast, coming down the river at a speed probably faster to the eye than in reality. I already felt my soul being torn from my life and thrown onto this disgusting, filthy deck.

I took the first step down into my new home, and the smell made me double over and dream of seeing my last meal. It was one that could appropriately be deemed indescribable. Not only could you catch the stench of vomit and feces, but also the waft of rotting flesh and food. The air was thick with infection and made suffocating with claustrophobia.

We were laid on our back tightly, elbow to elbow. I was laid in something made of chunks and liquid. It took all my might to not turn and barf on one of my neighbors. As soon as everyone was loaded, the ship set off at a rocky flow.

There’s something unlike anything else being trapped in the belly of a ship with a hundred other blacks, all from different tribes and languages. We were shipped as tight as it could get. We were layered – men slept above and below me.

My eyes soon adjusted to the darkness and my senses to the stenches and noises around me. I doze in and out of reality regularly – dreaming of home, of happiness, of my family.

It’s hard to say how many meals passed of white food. I suspected it to be old porridge or something close to it. It was liquid and had a fowl smell to it, and I usually regurgitated it not long after. Occasionally buckets of water would be taken down and we’d be forced to drink – but it was also as disgusting as the living conditions and meal.

Eok stirred beside me, twisting from side to side. He’d always hated boats, even more than I, and chunks of our last meal were still visible on his chin and spewed about his head and chest. I rolled onto my side awkwardly and brushed it from his lips. Dull, hopeless eyes met mine.

“I’ll never forgive myself.” He growled. “I brought you into this.”

“I brought it upon myself.” I whispered, although I doubt he heard me. The older woman to my right was moaning loudly and she coughed several times until I heard a splat where my back would be again in a few moments. “Never blame yourself.”

Eok nodded slowly, turning his back to me to cough. I slowly rested myself back on my back to feel it slosh underneath me. It was almost enough to make me make my own puddle. Almost.

I counted twelve meals before the men came down and yanked the chains that held us to our splintery bunks. We were dragged out of our spots and thumped heavily onto the floor. My muscles weren’t listening to my mind, and I tripped several times before falling back into a natural walk.

We were shoved up onto the deck and the first person nearly collapsed as the merciless sun near blinded him. He stumbled along, eyes squinted shut. I looked away from the sky as the rest were led out. Luckily, I adjusted soon enough and music started up from a higher place. Then, freezing salt water met my open-fleshed skin. An inhumane scream ripped from my throat as my skin sizzled and burned. Several more buckets were repeatedly dumped until the music sped up.

“Move!” One shouted. “Move your legs, now!”

We jostled around in place to give our muscles what little exercise possible.

For countless days that was the cycle. Every twelve meals we were escorted outside to dance in the blistering heat and to have the saltwater disinfect our wounds. I counted six dead men dragged out onto deck.

On meal one-hundred fifty-six, the lady next to me was escorted out by being dragged by her ankles. I scooted over slightly and soon after our next meal was brought down. Eok stared at it, noticing both our plates untouched.

“Eat.” I whispered. “Even if it comes back up, eat.”

“What is the point?”

“You cannot give up! Not now!” I grabbed my own meal and forced some of it in between my lips. “Eat, Eok. Please.”

He obeyed and took slow hesitant bites of his food. I licked my fingers to delay the next handful. We may have been fed an estimated three times a day, but it was usually leftover and only possibly two mouthfuls.

Nine meals later, the ship came to a disorienting halt.

After we were all boarded off, they loaded us into a thickly walled, high ceilinged room with metal gates that reached up past the ceiling. I watched black after black get loaded out and inspected by the fat, tobacco-breathed white men.

Then, it was my turn. I had seen the process multiple times but I still tensed up to the point of collapsing as he circled around me and saw my cuts along my back. He walked back around me and went over to a table, dipping a large cloth in a bowl of liquid.

Every bone in my body told me to try to break free, to fight, and to struggle. I knew it would only weaken me and possibly end up badly. They treated women as they treated men here, apparently. I could only hope Allah would give them what was coming.

He pressed the cloth to my back and a scream ripped out through my lips. Probably not the last time it would happen – but it still brought shock to myself. My entire back burned with such intensity that I struggled to keep to my feet with the heavy chains.
He walked back over and picked up a metal rod with a round end. One of the men holding me swept my hair from the back of my neck and this time I did thrash. The searing heat was unbelievable. I felt like a horse being captured or even a tiger being burned alive. I was falling slowly into hell.

I was branded and now the Devil’s men were dragging me down with them.

I was then shoved back through the gates and into the dark room of aching cuts and burning necks. I had been one of the last and we were escorted through to what looked like an auction. Men stationed themselves behind us, and slowly, man after man filed in. Blacks were sold, and the number decreased.

I had to watch silently as Eok was taken away bound in ropes.

I had to watch one killed because he struggled.

I had to let them touch me in all places I truly did not prefer.

Finally, a man picked me out and my chains were traded for thick ropes around my wrists and a long barreled pistol to my back. My demon had chosen me, and now I had to work for Allah’s mercy.
Waiting for the bus that never comes is silly. Once you start to walk, every opportunity will be stopping you in your tracks to greet you.


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Re: Transport to Hell

Post by world is quiet here » Sun 17th Jun 2012

That was wonderful. :D I have a few questions.
Who's Allah? Is he a god in a religon?
What time is it based averagely?
That was very good, very IR. (Not that I would know but, hey.)

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Re: Transport to Hell

Post by Randomosity » Sat 30th Jun 2012

Allah is the god of islam,
That was amazing!!! It really reflects how slaves were treated, but again, what time zone is it set in?
Please write more!!!
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Re: Transport to Hell

Post by JLHxXxX » Sat 30th Jun 2012

The Triangle Trade was set in the 16-1700's, I believe. This trade went from the new Americas, to Europe, to Africa, repeat. This traded goods and slaves and raw materials (sent by America to Europe, because by law they could not make their own products. England did that).
Waiting for the bus that never comes is silly. Once you start to walk, every opportunity will be stopping you in your tracks to greet you.


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