Extra 2 - Slaves

Extra 2 - Slaves

^^^ read the author note, I'm serious.

In a decrepit shack, men were sleeping, piled up on the ground. Like others around him, the young man woke up to the strident ringing of a bell.

Rise and shine, everyone! Same as usual, three minutes to grab your tools and get to work! The salt isnt going to mine itself! The Roman slaver in white robes said, repeating the same line he fed them every day, before leaving with his accursed bell.

The young man wanted to kill him. To rid the earth of this scourge and escape. For months already, he had been there. Every day was the same. The shack, the quarry, the whip, the pain, the gruel, the shack

But he could only submit. The chains at his feet wouldnt let his fate be otherwise. And neither would the two towering guards the fat man employed.

Every passing day he felt weaker. Perhaps his end was near. As a miner, he had little value, no one would care if he died, not even his owner.

As he left the shack, he threw a longing glance at the last piece of freedom he had, a name he had carved for himself in the shacks wall, hidden in the corner he always slept in.

Innocentis

All he could afford was a weak smile.

His smile froze.

His muscles cramped.

He hadnt yet left the shack today, and he never would. He screamed. The slaver turned around, frowning. Shut him up!

But he didnt hear. His body was nothing but pain. He had survived the strain of the work, the heat of the sun, the crack of the whip. But this was what broke him.

For the first time in his life, he wished he were dead.

Piece by piece, shred by shred, his body was gored by an invisible hand until his being was but a thought. Time stopped, the world stopped turning. Who would know what had really happened to him? His body had to have become a pile of warm flesh and blood. As he felt the world and his being fracture in a torturous unison, his last remnants of sanity faded.

Happy birthday to you!The origin of this chapter's debut can be traced to N0v3l--B1n.

Happy birthday to youuu!

She rushed out of her office and into the kitchen, in a few steps she reached the ovens side, and searched through the cupboards. What do you think about moms special Italian pasta today? she asked, triumphantly shaking a pack of spaghetti.

I think moms-

She never heard the end of his answer.

Minato was driving a truck through the sinuous outskirts of Tokyo. His family owned a moving company, his whole job was maintaining the trucks while they werent being used. Cleaning, repairing, refueling, all nice things he loved to do.

His trucks were his babies.

He wasnt driving all that fast, rather slowly even. The last thing he wanted was to cause damage to the surroundings and, most of all, his precious vehicle.

But as his soul left him, departing through the torrents of hell for another world, grasped and savagely ripped from his body, presumably by god himself; no one could stop his truck anymore.

Near a comfortable bed, layered with many sheets, a peculiar looking man held his wifes hand.

She had always been slender but these last few months had been hard on her. However, she had never been this happy.

He caressed her bulging belly. And what if its a girl? he asked.

Then Im thinking we should name her after your grand-mother. Kuli.

That had filled the man with joy for an instant. Then his wifes hand had limped out of his. Her eyes were glazed over.

And she disappeared.

The hero awoke on the cold, hard, polished stone floor.

They were surrounded by four large men in shining armor.

Nearby was a nobly dressed young woman, panting on the ground. No one provided help to either of them.

An old man in even more indecently luxurious robes stepped out of the shadows.

Welcome, Hero! I shall now grant you a new name!