Post by TygerShore on Jun 16, 2008 17:01:15 GMT -5
Knobby
by TygerShore
by TygerShore
Knobby hated his name. More than the fact that he was an orphan and a slave, he hated his name. They had named him and he had never known any other one.
They hadn't taught him anything. Not having an education, he could barely think of any names for himself, let alone any good ones.
Knobby had lived in the Fort for as long as he could remember. He didn't work in the fields as other young boy slaves, instead he had to work in the kitchen with the girls.
The only person that was allowed to tlk in the massive kitchen was Blowla. She had worked in the kitchen as a slave almost her whole life. Her face was always mashed into a grumpy snarl as she barked out orders to the unfortunate children.
Sometimes Knobby would look out the kitchen window, longing to be out in the fields with the other slave boys. Then he would see the hard work that they had to do and he would remember why he had to work in the kitchen. He was the thinnest, weakest, boy out of all of the slaves. Most of the girls that were around his age (He thought that he was around ten years old) were stronger than him.
"Knobby!" Knobby flinched as he heard Blowla yell at him. "Hurry up and get those dishes washed!"
Knobby lifted one of the big pots and dropped it into the sink. He used to work, preparing the food but after quite a bit of burnt food, Blowla put him on dish duty. He didn't like the fact that his hands would end up very soft by the end of the day. Washing knives was also hard because of the fact that they would constantly slip and he would end up with cuts. He couldn't complain though. One word, and they would have to go without their measly supper.
Knobby looked at his reflection in the water and sighed. He had normal, ragged brown hair with pale white skin. He had big blue eyes that had a dull look to them. He dropped a plate into the water, shattering his reflection. He didn't like the fact that he was plain looking. Why couldn't he be different? If he had golden hair, maybe he would have been a prince, or the son of someone rich. Instead he was a poor, orphaned dish washer in some Fort in the middle of nowhere.
Knobby punched the water. Why couldn't his luck have been better? Growing up to be like Blowla was not a happy thought. Knobby grabbed another dish off his endless pile. He had to escape. He had thought about it for years but he had never come up with how to escape. His thoughts went in the same circle as they always had when he thought of escaping. After a few minutes, he came back to the fact that there was no way he would be able to escape.
Knobby gave a slight smile as he heard the Fort bells ringing, signalling that the work for the day was over. He looked out the window that was conveniently over the sink. He could see the other boys walking back into the fort. Wiping his wet slimy hands on his grungy white tunic, he stepped in line with the girls as they filed out of the kitchen, and outside, flanked by some of the Fort's soldiers.
Knobby yelled as he tripped over the chains that were attached to his feet. Immediately two guards rushed at him and pulled him out of the line. Spitting out a mouthfull of dirt, Knobby tried to pick himself up. One of the guards dragged him up by his arm.
"What's your name?" The guard demanded, gripping Knobby's shoulder tightly.
Knobby paused for a moment to rid all of the dirt from his mouth.
"Tell me your name!" The guard yelled as he punched Knobby in the stomach.
Knobby doubled over in pain then fell to the ground. "It's Knobby." He said weakly through his tears.
"Get up." The other guard hauled Knobby up without any effort.
Both guards grabbed Knobby and dragged him back into the fort. Knobby knew that struggling wouldn't have any effect at all so he let the guards drag him through the Fort. Knobby gulped as he saw the doors of the Duke's room infront of him. One of the guards knocked on the door and a second later, it was opened.
Knobby had heard stories of what happened to slaves that were dragged off to see the Duke. Most of them came back after being whipped. Others didn't come back to the slave chambers at all. Without even knowing what he had done wrong, Knobby was more scared than he had ever been in his life. He had only seen the Duke one other time, when he was too young to remember what the Duke looked like.
"Sir. Here is that slave that has been causing all of the trouble." One of the guards said, pushing Knobby forward.
Knobby looked up into the Duke's face. The Duke had black hair and a sharp face. Knobby's blue eyes met with the Duke's cold green ones.
"How old is he?" The Duke asked coldly.
"Eleven years old sir." The guard said.
Knobby thought for a moment. He had thought that he was ten years old. Whether he was ten years old or eleven years old didn't matter at the moment to him, however. What matter was if he was going to leave the room alive or not.
"He's too young to survive on his own. Drop him outside." The Duke walked past Knobby and the guards, out of the room. Knobby hoped that getting dropped outside wasn't such a bad thing.
The guards dragged him back through the Fort and out in front of the main building. Knobby looked up at the big doors that were in front of him. He had heard that they were the only way in and out of the Fort.
One of the guards had stooped down and was unlocking the chains that had linked Knobby's feet together for years. One of the doors was pulled open by a guard, and Knobby saw his first look at the world outside the Fort.
