close
Knowing this, Sambo stormed out of the building in order to flee from the city. The landscape melted together in his tear covered eyes, but still he ran all the way down the street even though he didn’t know the way. He knew no directions, he cared nothing about how he was going to survive after leaving; he was so overwhelmed by his fear that he had to run, but still the vision was in his mind and it was clearer than ever. Finally, Sambo fell on his knees again. He found himself in a dark alley, just behind an alehouse. Sambo knew that he couldn’t go anywhere else in such a condition, so he sat there, tried to relax, and for the very first time since his own exile, looked into the vision to see if there was a way for him to escape his fatal destiny. But nothing was there other than the lonely grave. Sambo let out a sigh and stood up. He was going to steal something from the back door, so he could continue his journey out of the city. Then he suddenly saw some figures in the darkness. He half closed his eyes so he could get a better view of them, then he drew in a deep breath: there were some slaves chained together on a big pole outside, waiting to be sold at the auction. They were people of the same skin color as him. Sambo felt a rush of blood to his face, and he couldn’t help thinking of freeing the people. He walked up to them in order to have a better look at them. He saw that they were chained around the ankles. They all looked so weary and skinny that even though the chain wasn’t heavily fastened, none of them seemed to have enough strength to break free. At the end of the row was a little boy, no more than five years old. He looked up at Sambo, his once big and innocent eyes now clouded with fear and helplessness. Sambo looked back at him, and all of a sudden the boy was like a son that he could now lose. The boy was trapped, in an alien land that he was doomed to die in, and no future or hopes awaited him. Looking deep into the boy’s eyes, Sambo made up his mind. He picked up a piece of stone, went towards the slaves and started to hit the gyve with it. All the slaves watched him in surprise, but no one made a sound or moved, as if there were an enchantment cast upon them. None of them could do anything but look at Sambo. Sambo kept hitting the gyve until the iron was bent and their feet could break free of it; his hands cut, the stone shattered, he just went to pick another stone, then continued with his work again. His actions seemed crazy, but his face was calm and determined.
Sambo freed all of the slaves. One by one they gathered around Sambo, who could now hardly stand on his feet at all. His hand was badly wounded, blood splashed all over his face and clothes, but Sambo couldn’t care less. He had almost lost all his strength. He gathered the energy he had left, and told them to leave the city and never came back. Shivering from the cold and starvation, the slaves still managed to turn and leave. One of them asked Sambo worriedly:”How about you? Aren’t you coming with us? ” Sambo knew that he didn’t have enough strength to walk, so he lied to them: “You go first, I’ll catch up with you later.” So one after the other, they held each other’s arms and turned to leave. The young boy looked at Sambo as he left, smiling. Sambo waved goodbye to him, knowing that it would be the last time he saw him, but also that he would now have a better life awaiting him in the future.
Exhausted and hurt, Sambo trembled back to the spot near the alehouse, and sat against the thin wood wall. And for a long while, Sambo could do nothing but think, but even thinking was a burden for him now that he could hardly keep his head from falling to the ground. Blood still flowed from the cuts on his hands, draining away his consciousness and strength. He felt weak and cold inside. I will die if I stay here, thought Sambo. If I die here, I’ll be going to that lonely grave of mine. So should I get up and walk away from here with the people I just freed while I still have some energy left in me? Or should I stay here and wait for certain death? Sambo decided to give his vision one last try. And miraculously, his vision showed something more. He could see in one path that, although he didn’t get to meet those people again, he did get out of the city alone and even returned to his country. But there was nothing left waiting for him, for everything he’d ever cherished had been stolen with violence. He met some other people, carried on a simple but content life, but after several years still died, and that lonely grave was still the end of him. But in another path, he saw himself bleeding to death where he lay. He went into a lonely grave this time, but his death had become a symbol of anti-slavery. Somehow, after years of struggle, the city had finally banned the slave trade. His people could finally be as free as they once were. Knowing the two results of his choice, Sambo smiled to himself, the very first time after his gift had turned to a curse. Then he closed his eyes, slowly pushed himself to the boundary of death. The image of the grave became clearer and clearer in time, but he feared no more, for he knew that his death was a meaningful one. Before he let out his last breath, he saw something different in his vision. Gathering all the remaining energy he had, he looked into it…
And he saw his grave was no longer empty, it was now covered with flowers and painted stone. People came to the spot in memory of him. They sat around his grave with food, as free as the birds in the sky. One little black boy who looked just like the young slave he had freed came and stood in front of the grave while his parents told him the story of Sambo. The boy listened, and with a smile on his face all the time. His eyes were now lit with hope and joy, just like the smile on his face. He was free too, no longer a slave. Sambo felt his heart warm even though cold began to spread through the rest of him. Then everything faded away slowly. Sambo knew it was time for him to leave this world too. But this time, without fear, he walked up with his back straight, to the land after death.
Sambo freed all of the slaves. One by one they gathered around Sambo, who could now hardly stand on his feet at all. His hand was badly wounded, blood splashed all over his face and clothes, but Sambo couldn’t care less. He had almost lost all his strength. He gathered the energy he had left, and told them to leave the city and never came back. Shivering from the cold and starvation, the slaves still managed to turn and leave. One of them asked Sambo worriedly:”How about you? Aren’t you coming with us? ” Sambo knew that he didn’t have enough strength to walk, so he lied to them: “You go first, I’ll catch up with you later.” So one after the other, they held each other’s arms and turned to leave. The young boy looked at Sambo as he left, smiling. Sambo waved goodbye to him, knowing that it would be the last time he saw him, but also that he would now have a better life awaiting him in the future.
Exhausted and hurt, Sambo trembled back to the spot near the alehouse, and sat against the thin wood wall. And for a long while, Sambo could do nothing but think, but even thinking was a burden for him now that he could hardly keep his head from falling to the ground. Blood still flowed from the cuts on his hands, draining away his consciousness and strength. He felt weak and cold inside. I will die if I stay here, thought Sambo. If I die here, I’ll be going to that lonely grave of mine. So should I get up and walk away from here with the people I just freed while I still have some energy left in me? Or should I stay here and wait for certain death? Sambo decided to give his vision one last try. And miraculously, his vision showed something more. He could see in one path that, although he didn’t get to meet those people again, he did get out of the city alone and even returned to his country. But there was nothing left waiting for him, for everything he’d ever cherished had been stolen with violence. He met some other people, carried on a simple but content life, but after several years still died, and that lonely grave was still the end of him. But in another path, he saw himself bleeding to death where he lay. He went into a lonely grave this time, but his death had become a symbol of anti-slavery. Somehow, after years of struggle, the city had finally banned the slave trade. His people could finally be as free as they once were. Knowing the two results of his choice, Sambo smiled to himself, the very first time after his gift had turned to a curse. Then he closed his eyes, slowly pushed himself to the boundary of death. The image of the grave became clearer and clearer in time, but he feared no more, for he knew that his death was a meaningful one. Before he let out his last breath, he saw something different in his vision. Gathering all the remaining energy he had, he looked into it…
And he saw his grave was no longer empty, it was now covered with flowers and painted stone. People came to the spot in memory of him. They sat around his grave with food, as free as the birds in the sky. One little black boy who looked just like the young slave he had freed came and stood in front of the grave while his parents told him the story of Sambo. The boy listened, and with a smile on his face all the time. His eyes were now lit with hope and joy, just like the smile on his face. He was free too, no longer a slave. Sambo felt his heart warm even though cold began to spread through the rest of him. Then everything faded away slowly. Sambo knew it was time for him to leave this world too. But this time, without fear, he walked up with his back straight, to the land after death.
全站熱搜
留言列表
