The Element of Freedom
A natural wave of calmness swept across the rolling, endless groves of olive trees. The blue sky had a slight teal tinge to it, and was dotted with light, fluffy clouds. A proud sun was gleaming brightly overhead, providing plentiful warmth throughout the land. The warm breeze blowing inland carried the salty scent of the ocean mixed in with the aroma of sweating laborers working away at harvesting olives. This elongated patch of land, roughly 25 miles long and 14 miles wide, belonged to a wealthy capsuleer of who no one knew the name of; names of such individuals aren't important to planet-bound humans anyway. The army of laborers who worked for the capsuleer were slaves. Matari slaves, to be exact. They worked day by day making ISK for their unknown owner. Those who tried to revolt or escape were shot by the slavers or torn to shreds by the slaver hounds.
An unnatural voice broke through the calmness of midday.
“Harvest faster you rat!” screeched a rather portly man of less-than-average height. The crack of his whip scarred the air. It struck the back of a woman hunching over her basket of harvest; she made no verbal protests to being lashed by the whip – she was used to the feeling by now.
The woman's 10-year-old son, who was on the other side of the olive tree, watched as the corpulent man lashed his mother a few more times. The boy just watched, dumbfounded. Under normal circumstances he would have liked to sink his nails into the flesh of the barking barbarian. These were not normal circumstances, however. Far from normal circumstances.
At nightfall, when the work day was over, the boy and his mother walked together to their quarters in the serene moonlight. The warm summer air was gentle to the woman's fresh scars, which were still seeping pomegranate-red blood. When the pair reached their hut, the mother embraced her child affectionately before walking inside for some much needed rest. The boy decided he wasn't sleepy and laid down on a small patch of grass near the hut. He took in a deep sigh and gazed at the heavens above. Stars of all colors and bands of milky cosmic clouds stretched across the sky overhead, like a canvas. The boy artfully traced all sorts of figures out of the stars with his fingers; tonight he was no longer a slave – he was an artist.
Hours seemed to drift by as the boy kept painting on the sky; a heavy spell of sleep soon drew over the young lad. He yawned and stood up for moments letting the calm, warm air drown his small body. The boy would have liked to take off his only article of clothing, a pair of shorts, to truly feel the loving embrace of the warm air, but he was taught by the slavers doing such things would be indecent and reason for a lashing. The lad shook the notion from his head, and drowsily walked in the hut to sleep alongside his resting mother.
---
The relentless sun was beating down on the workers of the endless fields. A shining glaze of sweat was spread across the back of the boy as he hunched over, sowing the seeds for a new batch of olive trees. His now well-toned muscles flexed and relaxed with each mechanical movement of his trained mind. On that day would have been his sixteenth birthday. The slavers didn't allow for the recognition for such momentous occasions, all that mattered was you grew another year stronger and would therefore be expected to work that much more efficiently.
Each day was the same. The slaves woke at the crack of dawn, and headed out to the fields to begin harvesting, planting, and maintaining the olive trees. There would be some cursing, pushing, and lashing from the slavers to get the slaves to work faster, or so they claimed. Then by sunset, the workers would go to their quarters for dinner and sleep. It was all some sort of cruel reality show on a broken holoreel which was stuck on repeat.
On that day, the capsuleer who owned the plantation hosted a festival to celebrate the success of his business. The slaves would be allowed to leave work by the time three o'clock came. Only slavers were allowed to attend, however; the laborers would simply be allowed to roam the stretch of property or gather together as a small community to have their own celebration. The boy decided he wouldn't join in with his fellow slaves in the gathering. He would venture off to the coast for the first time.
By the time three o'clock arrived, the microphone towers in place few and far between sounded their monotonous siren – the work day was over. The boy decided to follow the main road which connected a starport near the coast to the plantation's headquarters more inland. He had to navigate through the mass of slaves heading the opposite direction to the main slave barracks, constantly bumping into exhausted, sweaty laborers. The lad didn't mind though. He figured he could wash off in the ocean once he reached the coast.
With each mile closer to the coast he walked, the stronger the scent of the ocean became. The boy smiled and opened his mouth, tasting the salt-tinged air. Though it was his sixteenth birthday, the lad leaped around with the spirit and energy of a toddler exploring a candy factory.
The mellifluous sound of waves crashing against the rocks encompassed the lad's ears. He eagerly began to sprint towards the sound, and smacked the thick forest brush out of his way. Soon, he had finally reached his destination. A mood of energetic joy entered a metamorphosis which resulted in a mood of awe-inducing admiration. What the boy saw was a dream of beauty he couldn't have dreamed of.
A mass of turquoise-blue water sat calmly in front of him, gleaming and shimmering under the sun. The ocean was met by a coast of fine white sand to the boy's left and rocky cliffs to his right. A couple miles out, several monolithic chunks of black rock laid peacefully in the ocean. The rustling of leaves and coos of coastal birds filled the warm, late-summer air. Clouds overhead mixed together in such a fashion to produce a milky effect with rays of golden sun bursting through. The boy had reached heaven.
“I wish you were here,” murmured the boy softly as he clasped onto the necklace which belonged to his mother. His mother gave the precious necklace to him two years ago when she died from being stung by a locally infamous insect. An antidote was available on the plantation grounds, but that supply was strictly for non-slaves only; by the time a new supply of antidote for slave use arrived on the planet, the woman was already a day dead.
The lad let out a soft sigh and trekked along the beach for what seemed to be hours, feeling the grains of sand beneath his bare feet was a feeling he never before knew; a graceful trance had overtook him. Eventually he came across an impressive chained fence which stretched perpendicular in the direction the lad was walking – the border which marked the end of the territory owned by his capsuleer master.
On the opposite side of the fence, behind some forest brush, was a small lagoon. The boy's gaze was transfixed in its direction. It wasn't the lagoon that caught his attention. No, it was the creature that was bathing in the lagoon that grasped onto his soul! An exotic bird of which the lad had never before seen. The feathers throughout it's body were a radiant scarlet red, while those on the back half of its wings were tinted hot rod yellow. The bird's elongated beak and beady eyes were of the blackest shade of night. This slender creature of pure majesty was burned into the memory of the boy. When it caught his gaze, the exotic beauty let out an angelic song and spread it's massive wings and flew out to the sea – it was enjoying
freedom.
“They're called Valkyries,” said a calm voice. The boy's trance was broken, and he turned around in startled surprised to face the direction of the speaker. He was relieved to see that the man speaking to him was of familiarity, a man who he considered to be his uncle.
“Its getting late, youngster. I'll tell you all about them as we make our way back to our quarters.” The boy nodded and briefly glanced back out towards the ocean and the setting sun, being sure to take in the last of what he could. And so together the pair walked, with the man speaking of legends which told of the spirits of loved ones being reincarnated in the bodies of majestic Valkyries, forever enjoying the taste of true freedom that had been denied to them for so many generations.
For once in his young life, the boy felt content in his heart. He laid in bed, with a big grin on his face and closed his eyes as he drifted off into a dream. Tonight he was no longer a slave – he was a Valkyrie.
---
The crack of a whip broke the peaceful air. The lad didn't even flinch as the whip fell upon his back. His tolerance for pain had increased being that he was a few years older.
“Stop daydreaming you runt, and get back to work!” screamed the slaver who struck him. He retracted his whip and prepared to release another strike, as the lad still stood there dumbly.
Lately, he had been receiving more and more lashings for his apparent daydreaming. The slavers figured he had gone mad; the boy's aching heart dreamed of seeing a Valkyrie again and experiencing that which he never truly knew. He was beginning to be seen as more of a burden than a valuable worker, in the minds of the slavers.
The lad had been assigned a new task, one which was to clear away trees near the ocean for the addition of several dozen more acres for olive trees. He couldn't help but dream of escaping to the ocean in hopes of catching another glimpse of a legendary Valkyrie. He and his group of slaves were so close to the coast they could hear the faint crashing of waves against the cliffs and coos of coastal birds. His soul was burning of desire.
He suddenly snapped out of his daydream as the enraged slaver was barking curses and commands right in front of his face. The boy still stood there idly, however. This enraged the slaver so more that he clutched onto the necklace around the lad's neck, and yanked it off with all his might causing it to shatter into a dozen fragmented pieces – he then went on with yelling commands. In the mind of the boy, a blackness had overcome him. He could only focus on the shattered remains of his most precious possession. The roaring slaver was tuned out, the sound of the waves, the coos of birds, everything was tuned out with the exception of his now racing heartbeat. Oh how he felt it might burst through his chest! Adrenaline and impulse reaction had seized control of the young man at that moment.
A strong punch landed across the face of the slaver. So strong that he was knocked down to his hands and knees, dazed at what just happened; he was still screaming despite it all, a talent the slavers seemed to be gifted with. Then the young man wrapped his muscular arms around the neck of the screeching slaver, and with a simple twist to the right, all was silent. He stood there looking down at the silent slaver, taking in slowly the magnitude of what he had just done. The nearby slavers were closing in all around him, and he did what his racing heart commanded him.
The young man ran with a speed like no other towards the coast, the slavers could barely keep up. Eventually he reached the edge of a rocky cliff, and stood for a moment to take in the familiar beauty which was flying before him. A Valkyrie.
The slavers burst through the forest brush and caught site of the lad.
He lifted up his mighty arms and let out a short yell; he was smiling.
The slavers took their aim carefully with their rifles.
The lad closed his eyes, and relished in the moment. A few moments later, he was freed.
---
A natural wave of calmness swept across the rolling, endless groves of olive trees. The blue sky had a slight teal tinge to it, and was dotted with light, fluffy clouds. A proud sun was gleaming brightly overhead, providing plentiful warmth throughout the land. The warm breeze blowing inland carried the salty scent of the ocean mixed in with the aroma of sweating laborers reveling at their successful rebellion for freedom – a rebellion started by the boy who the day before had become a Valkyrie. He was the first to taste freedom, but he certainly won't be the last.
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Topic: [Fiction Contest] The Element of Freedom (Read 881 times)