Pushing dark brown hair out of his eyes, the young man sighed softly to himself as he tugged on the highest sack of apples, catching it before it hit the ground. Straining with the effort, he took two steps back and lowered it with a light grunt of effort onto the smaller cart that sat just behind him. Almost absentmindedly, he wiped his hands — covered in dirt from the produce — onto his pants, adding to the grime. They were old, tiny rips showing here and there, rough patchwork the only signs of attempts to mend it.
He made sure his horse was tied firmly to a pole, gave it an absent minded pat on the head, and then turned, taking a hold of the handles of the cart. It was heavy, but not something he couldn't handle — he had to be able to — and he tugged it in the direction of the shop entrance.
Life had not been kind to Eden.
Since he was born, he had known only hardship. His father had left when he was but a babe, leaving only his mother to take care of both of them. They made it, although barely, and he promised himself he would do his best in school, get a good job, and give his mother everything they never had in his youth. And then she got sick, and for many years, she was in and out of doctors’ and physicians’ offices. School was far out of the question, and when she did finally pass from the mysterious illness nobody could cure, he was but a boy of ten.
Immediately a man stepped forward, claiming ownership of him; his mother had taken out loans to visit these doctors and physicians — some of which promised healing at steep costs — and hadn’t had the time to pay them back. But the man, Daniel, was kind (or so he claimed), and he wouldn’t sell off Eden as a slave to earn back a portion of what was owed. Instead, he would take Eden on as a worker in his farm, picking ripe fruits and carting them to various shops. He would work without pay, given a roof over his head and meals a day if he reached his quota, until he had worked off his mother’s debt. Once he did, Dan would let him go — or hire him, depending on what Eden wanted.
That had been thirteen years ago, and Eden was less than halfway to his freedom. Dan had been hard, with the cost of the tiny slave-hut and meals had been taken out of his ‘payment’. Still, Eden couldn’t complain. Some masters (Dan never failed to remind his slaves) often whipped or beat their slaves, and didn’t give them food. Of course, Eden only ever got stale bread, boiled vegetables, and water (and, if there were ever leftovers from his table, scraps of chicken, cheese, and others), but he wasn’t going to complain.
With a last grunt of effort, Eden pushed the cart to the front of the bakery. His stomach gave a painful rumble as he caught a waft of the goods inside. He hadn’t eaten breakfast today; he didn’t meet his quota in time. Hiding a sigh, he heaved the sack onto his shoulders and entered. Carts weren’t allowed inside, for there wasn’t enough room. Moving straight to the back-room, Eden felt his step waver as the smell of freshly-baked-bread overpowered him. Tears of frustration and hunger and exhaustion threatened to rise, and he bit them back, mentally counting down the time until he could return to his hut and sleep. Five hours a day wasn’t fully enough, but it helped.
He put the sack of apples in the corner of the room, as always, and turned. As he did, his stomach gave another loud grumble, and he bit his lip. What he’d give to have just a slice of bread. His eyes darted to the dustbin in the corner, where he knew they discarded the burnt ends and the stale bread from previous days. It was stealing, he knew, but he’d done it once or twice before. So far he hadn’t gotten caught, but he knew what they did to thieves. It just wasn’t worth risking.
So, with a sigh and one last longing glance towards it, he forced himself, step by step, to walk back out.
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Sat Jul 21, 2018 11:22 am