Chapter 37: Gold unworthyness

‎As life as it, I chose watching the haggling process over escaping, I believe that an opportunity will show itself for me to use and escape.

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‎"alright you lot, "the boss of the slave traders said. he have finally arrived back from his little journey.

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‎"This is it. Your final stop. You’re about to become someone’s property, so try to look... valuable. A smile might fetch a higher price. Not that any of you sorry sacks have anything to smile about."

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‎A ripple of fear went through the slaves. A young man, barely more than a boy, began to sob quietly. His father, his face a mask of stoic grief, pulled him close, whispering, and ordering him to shut up, to stop drawing attention to them.

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‎"Now, follow me, let me lead you to your final final, destination,I hope you sell. "the boss of the slave traders said.

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‎As the boss stopped and start leading them towards were they will be sold off, I saw another slave traders went towards the boss, to say something. He wasn’t even trying to be quiet on what he said.

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‎"vorkar, there are only men slave in this group, I am not sure we would be able to make enough sale today. "the slave traders said.

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‎"who, said that, there are plenty use for male, and I am very sure that we will have some buyers who have fetish for using a male as a sex slave, so let your mind be at rest, we will make sale, after all this is the slave market, a place filled with different unique and twisted kind of place. A place we can sell all our merchandise off. "The boss said.

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‎The word said by the boss, sent ripple of fear to the slave that heard, especially me, I don’t want anything inside that hole at all. The word from the boss fuel my drive to look for a method to escape quickly.

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‎The journey into the city was a blur of jeers and flying refuse. City dwellers, their faces a mixture of contempt and morbid curiosity, lined the streets to watch the new arrivals. I felt their gazes like physical blows, stripping away the last shreds of the other slave dignity. I wouldn’t add myself to the slave, because their curious or perverted gaze won’t faze me at all, I am sure that I would escape before or after I am sold off.

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‎They were a spectacle, a parade of the damned. The slave pens were a maze of cramped, dark cages located beneath the main market square. The air here was even fouler, a concentrated essence of human suffering. my slave group was shoved into a cage with a boundary that separate us from the other slave, that belongs to different slave traders. The space was so tight they had to stand, their shoulders pressed together. The only light came from a few slits high in the stone ceiling, casting dusty beams onto faces etched with despair.

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‎we were given a single bucket of brackish water to share. we were told to wash our body with that water, some fought over it like animals, some decide that drinking the water is a more better decision than washing, their parched throats and cracked lips driving them to a primal desperation. I did not even bother to touched that water at all, I managed to squeezed myself to the very far back, I don’t want a single drop of that disgusting black water to touch me. why they were still fighting over the decision of drinking or washing, a guard came, he then tripped the water before their very eye.

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‎The bucket was kicked over by the guard, who laughed as if he did something very funny. I watched them scramble to lick the damp earth, they were trying to drink the dirty black water on the ground, the ground that they don’t know what have stepped on it.

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‎The next morning, the auctions began. A gate at the end of the corridor would clang open, and a guard would drag out a handful of slaves from the other division of slaves. The screams and pleas that followed were quickly swallowed by the roar of the crowd above. Sometimes, a slave would be returned, their eyes vacant and empty, their spirit broken. More often, they simply never came back.

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‎my group turn came on the second day. we were pulled from our from our cage in a number of fives, including the sobbing boy, whose name he’d learned was Derrin. They were herded up a narrow, winding staircase and shoved into the blinding sunlight of the market square.

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‎The heat was a physical force, pressing down on all of us. And God knows I hate the heat too much, especially this kind, that makes someone feels very disoriented, I could see the noisemakers and buyers under a large open canopy, their noise was a cacophony of shouting, bidding, and cruel laughter. In the center of the square stood a raised wooden platform, slick with the blood and sweat of countless others.

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‎A sleek, well-dressed man with a pointed beard, the auctioneer, stood on the platform, his voice a practiced, oily drone. "Lot number forty-seven!" he cried, gesturing to a powerful-looking man whose back was a tapestry of old scars. "A fine, strong specimen! Perfect for the mines or heavy labor! Do I hear fifty silver?"

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‎The bidding was fast and furious. I watched all this with the little semblance of calm, calm I could possibly muster under this blistering heat, his heart a cold stone in his chest. He saw the boy, Derrin, sold to a portly, lecherous man whose grin made my skin crawl. He saw long close siblings torn from each other, their screams of anguish, a sound that just enter one ear and out. all this thing is how live is just is, so why would the cruelty being done on others haunt him. As long as it doesn’t affect me, it’s fair game.

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‎Then it was his turn. "Lot number fifty-three!" the auctioneer announced. "A healthy male, mid-twenties. Strong back, good teeth. A prime piece of stock! Start the bidding at twenty silver!"

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‎I was pushed onto the platform. The sun was blinding. The faces in the crowd were a distorted, jeering of monsters. He felt hands prodding him, checking his muscles, they were trying to pry open his mouth to inspect his teeth. they wanted to treat him like an animal. A thing.

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‎But what they don’t understand is that you cannot carry a lion and treat him like a dog, expect the lion to listen to you fully. The lion will one day bite, it will bite you so much that the taste of your blood will awaken it hidden gene, and if you are lucky to still remain alive after that, you should thank your lucky star. what I am trying to say is, I bit anybody that put their Stinky finger in my mouth, I bite it that I tasted blood. And also because I believe that they won’t injure the merchandise, and if they try to do that they can only blame their selves for losing money.

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‎"Twenty-five!"

‎"Thirty!"

‎"Thirty-five on the left!"

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