• What is a normal life? One non-tainted, calm, happy? Is there even such a life of

    pure joy? My story is different. I spent thirteen years of my horrid life as a peasant. Working

    long hours each day. Many days I slaved away at ten jobs from dawn to nightfall.

    Over the years, my mother and father have accumulated a large debt; built from

    gambling on failed investments, and of course unnecessary furniture for the cottage. What

    is the reason that I was born into a family who’s own lives hold no superiority over money?

    Is the world really this evil?

    The date is 1837, March 5, somewhere in Britain. I guess I should start my story

    by explaining my features. I was born with albinism. My skin is very pale, my hair, long and

    silver as the silk for royalty, and my eyes, a black as pitch, almost as a pearl painted. I was a

    simple girl, wiser than most, I could read, even write. Look at all of the country bumpkins

    who refuse the educational need. Some of course had simple knowledge, like farming,

    cleaning, cooking, all the basic principles of being born female, but we are not depended


    I hear my parents arguing at midnight. The candle lights still burning hot as

    when lit. A knocking on the door breaks the rambunctious noise of shouting. “We are here

    to collect, do you have the money?” said a hoarse voice, I am guessing one of the king’s

    knights, oh no, that would be much better. When the door was open, what a saw was even

    more fierce.

    Giant men, standing at least six and a half feet, draped in heavy wear much like

    a dog with its weight in fur. “We do not have the money right now,” my mother started to

    explain, “we do not have much to offer you.” One of the big burly men lifted his left hand and

    with a loud crack, he planted his enormous palm on my mother’s cheek, leaving it as red as

    a wild tomato, she did not flinch or fall, but I knew it hurt.

    I revealed myself at that point, but of course it was an accident, I do not know a

    single person who would interrupt a conversation such as this. I can be such a klutz

    occasionally, like when I spilt the goat milk all over my cousin’s newly made gown, or the

    time I went to a Townsend dance with my secret crush, and tripped him into horse dung.

    This time my clumsiness was at the worst time possible. Why oh why did I forget to bring

    the pail of water outside to the sheep? It was to late to recoil my mistake. I was seen and

    obviously I was heard. My knees buckled and I limped down, I’m pretty sure I looked like a

    scared goose.

    Both of the men had stared at me, their eyes reaching all the way to the marrow

    in my bones. Was I frightened by these men, or just intimidated? Whatever it was I was

    nervous. I knew that this day would be unfortunate for me. This low some, and lame day.

    “Who have we here?” the men said in almost complete unison; I still am not

    able to figure out if they were fraternal twins or not. Were they even related? The men

    walked over to me, I think I shrieked, but just a little. The tallest of the pair yanked at my chin

    and pulled on it hard. Turning and stretching my face in almost every direction. It was pretty

    painful to be honest.

    Even though I am wise, occasionally I can be a country bumpkin like the rest.

    This time, I’m absolutely sure I was. I wanted the man to remove his hand, so I pulled back

    as fast and as hard as I could, and bit his thumb, but apparently not hard enough. I could

    see in the dark eyes of the man, his rage was soaring as high as an eagle. Only a little

    crimson blood, and a few other unmentionable colors leaked out from the bite marks. Both

    my shoulders were grabbed. What was going on!

    Is there a reason family members will not move when another is being stolen

    from their love? “The lord will be extremely pleased with this specimen.” Specimen? Was I

    some sort of experiment? I couldn’t make sense of it all, none whatsoever.

    “With this your debt is repaid.” the shorter man said. I was now being held on

    the shoulder of Mr. Zero-Nero positive. Aka, the ‘shorty‘. The next reputed words my parents

    dared sputter out broke my heart, a cheerful, non-regrettable, “Thank You.”

    The door closed behind the two men and I. I could barely breath I was so

    outraged. I was sold off to some unknown, unethical, egomaniac, and I was to become his

    slave just for the sake of debt. My answer to the world, you are evil, let all perish and burn in

    the pits of Hell.

    It really is cruel how none care for a slave. They are beat, mistreated, and poorly

    fed. Is that any different from a rogue animal? Was I to be treated the same?

    “Don’ worry,” began Mr. Tall-and-not-so-skinny, I didn’t know their names so I

    guess it is a stand in, “The lord treats all his personal servants with care, so you will not be

    beat unless you disobey.” Great. Like that would make this any better. I wanted to live a life

    without all this strife and worry. A life without sorrow or anger. Just joy and peace.

    I knew now that through all the smiles I have managed to plaster on my solemn face, I

    would refuse another to appear. My neck was hit hard by something, my eyes were

    beginning to close.

    “Let’s git movin, we’ve a long ways to go.” Zero-Nero spouted. I am unclear of

    what happened afterward, but I am pretty sure I was thrown in what seemed like a wooden

    cart, no surprise there. The last thing I remember of my cottage, was the sinister smile

    upon the twisted face of the ones to sold me, my own family.