A Slave's Tale

                                          April 29th, 2567

         My name is Xevious Argon. I am writing this journal to tell future slaves about my life on Dar. If you find any singed pages, it is because of the fact that I rescued this journal from the fire place. My mom accidentally knocked it into the fire. She had been preparing dinner in a Dutch oven. Suddenly, some cooking oil leaked out, making the fire roar up in a sudden hellish burst. My mom jumped back in shock and hit the kitchen table, where I had left this journal, and that’s when it fell in. Thankfully, I was on my way to set the table. I saw the journal in the flame and grabbed it with a pair of prongs. Some of my past entries have burned away, but they are unimportant.

         Speaking of dinner, my mom just yelled that it’s ready. I’ll write more tomorrow.          

                                        April 30th, 2567

         I’m feeling a little sore today. My master whipped me today for taking a breather before break time. Normally, I know better then to stop plowing. They make us plow so that they can grow crops, like gren, a type of fruit, and lerd, a plant as cool in taste as mint, used in cooking. But, I was tired. You see, we, the slaves, are not allowed to bathe. Anyone caught using part of their weekly two gallon jug of drinking water for bathing purposes are brutally whipped. So, it gets pretty stinky around here, and the smell of dry sweat and mud fill the air in our little community. I am one of the few who risk secretly taking a bath in one of Dar’s many lakes. There would probably be more risk takers if a whipping was the only threat involved. Many creatures fill the lakes. One of them attacked me today.

You see, during my usual early morning dip in the lake near my hut, I was chased by a Seld. The reason is because of urgberries. I was hungry, not having eaten breakfast, and the sweet, candy-like smell drew me in to a bush. Unfortunately, I stepped on the Selds tail. It was as fast as a cheetah, and it easily out swam me. Since it was a constrictor, it wrapped its slimy, eel-like body around me and started to squeeze. It was strong, like an enraged bull, and it took all of my own strength to pull it off and swim to safety. I escaped with few injuries.

         The rest of my day was like the usual. I worked from Eight o’clock a.m. to Six o’clock p.m., digging the canals for the Zarks crops. I then went home and kicked around a soccer ball I made out of strong swamp grass. Before I was enslaved, I used to play soccer for my school team. I was a great goalie, and I made the travel team.

Afterwards, I ate. My mom is a pretty good chef, turning the wild gerocks flying outside into wonderful meals. She fries the wings, and then separately bakes the body after cutting off the head. Sometimes, I sneak into one of the nearby Zark homes, mostly my master’s. I steal some garg carcasses, maybe some vegetables too, and bring them home. I love garg. That’s why I steal it. My mom’s recipe is a pretty good one, where she sticks it in the middle of an open flame to burn off the outer skin, which is as hard as a rock and as tough as rubber, to get to the meat inside. But no matter how hard she tries she can’t beat the way my dad made it. He would buy some garg at the galactic market in Ohio, where he, my mom, my brother, and I used to live. He’d cut away the outer skin, which sometimes took an hour to do, and grilled the meat. Mmmm. Unfortunately, that is what led to his downfall.

         The Zarks invaded earth six years ago, when I was seven. They captured many people, including my family, and brought us here, to this slave community on Dar. My dad was forced to work as a chef when the Zarks heard about his talent. He cooked until I was ten. Then, on the day of a party, he singed part of the food. He was immediately thrown in the dungeon. Only five in fifty slaves thrown down there survive there full sentence. My dad was not one of the five.

         Oh, I shouldn’t have told you that. I’m starting to tear up. I’ll write more tomorrow.

                                            May 2nd, 2567

         I’m sorry I didn’t write yesterday. I just get so depressed when I think about my dad. I become as lazy and slow as a sloth. I get whipped and don’t even feel it. I just become a zombie. However, I’m better now. I’ll tell you what you missed.

         Two days ago, my brother, who served in the army on earth until he was enslaved, received a message from Colonel Danny Mane, an old friend of his. In the letter, mane talked about a plan. He didn’t say anything in detail, though; because he was afraid the Zarks would intercept the letter. He wrote that he would explain in future letters.

         My brother, whose name is Dave, told my mother about the letter. I picked up parts of the conversation from my room.

         “Mom,” Dave said, “This is what we have hoped for. We’ll be saved.”

         “Dave, you should know that that all hope was lost in this community after Earth didn’t make an attempt to rescue us within the first year,” my mom, Angie, replied.

         “Yes, but now they’re here. Maybe…” That’s all I got. My mom began to walk down the hall, and I didn’t want her to see me eavesdropping.

         Besides that, you didn’t miss much. So, I’m signing off for now.

                                        May 3rd, 2567

         I hate Zarks. Their scales are as cold and hard as ice, like their heart. Their eyes are egg yolks with a black slit running up and down each eye. Their snout, as long as my arm and with enough force to crush a head, are always fixed in a grin as evil as a hyenas. They are ruthless, and rule with an iron fist. Today reminded me of that.

         I and about twelve other slaves were working in our usual field. It was average temperature, about one hundred degrees, and the usual dust hung in the humid air. But, since it was the first day of a long dry season, there was more dust then usual, making the air as thick as pudding and very hard to see through. Because it was so hard to see, one of the other slaves accidentally kicked one of the Zarks tails. That is the worst thing you can do. Zarks prize their tails; taking great pride in making theirs look nice. The average length is two feet. Some Zarks use them as weapons, because they are thick and hard enough to break a leg. So, when his got kicked, the Zark was angry. But no one guessed what would happen next.

         Ignoring the cries of apology, he picked up the helpless kid and threw him into a nearby swamp. Small waves from the swamps edges showed the Selds coming to investigate. There were a few snaps of jaws, gurgling, and then silence, the horror movie type silence. It didn’t last long. Everyone started working double time, because an angry Zark is a dangerous Zark.

         I went home and told my mom. She went to the only phone in our tiny hut and transferred me to another master. I’m glad.

                                      May 31st, 2567

         I can’t believe it. This can’t be happening. One of the letters sent to us from Earth holding details of the plan was found by Zarks three days ago. The Zarks came into the community immediately, taking all involved, even my brother, to the dungeon. They also found my journal and burned every page I wrote this month. Stupid Zarks.

         The only good part of this month was yesterday. Earth kept its promise. Some soldiers are hiding within the community. I hope they don’t get caught. They’re our last chance at escape.

                                    June 2nd, 2567

The first attack was launched on the capital building today. Earth struck first, firing a rocket at the building. The fire roared as the Zarks launched a counter-attack. They forgot to do something, however. They didn’t force the slaves to fight for them, like they usually do. That could be their downfall, because now some of the slaves are fighting with Earth against them. There have also been two slave revolts, during which four guards were killed. It is chaos in our community. I just don’t know what will happen next.                                     

                                    June 4th, 2567

         The Zarks were snooping around again. I hid this journal so they couldn’t read the last few entrees. I didn’t take it out until today to make sure it wouldn’t be seen.

         I haven’t been able to sleep lately. The sounds of war echoed around the community. Bullets, Lasers, Explosions. It looks and sounds like a Fourth of July parade gone wrong. It’s okay to me, however. I know that some of the things I’ve seen will give me nightmares. Wounded soldiers, dead corpses, and fire. Lots of fire.

         There’s been a food shortage lately. All we’ve been getting are bread and a little bit of fruit. We can’t even hunt or fish, because the Zarks have taken everything that can be classified as a weapon.

         The Zarks are beginning to get unpredictable. That scares me. They walk around the community every time of day, hold random house searches, and kill or jail anyone they think is suspicious. They almost took me, but my mom pleaded, saying things like “He’s just a little boy,” and “He means no harm.” They then agreed to let me go.

         Man, I’m tired. My eyelids are starting to droop. I’m going to try and sleep. Goodnight journal.

                                          June 6th, 2567

         There’s been talk of the Zarks drawing up a peace treaty. It has given everyone a new sense of happiness. I think it’s the hope my brother talked about. Oh, right. I guess I should tell you. My brother past away yesterday evening after a guard brutally beat him. That’s why I forgot to write. I cried. I created a pool at the bottom of my feet, refilled every time by the river coming down my face. I still haven’t fully recovered.

         I’m signing off so I don’t get seen by a Zark patrolling tonight. Bye for now.

                                              June 8th, 2567

         Woo-Hoo!! They did it!! The Zarks surrendered, and a peace treaty has been signed. All the surviving slaves from the community and the dungeons, about two thousand in all, boarded the ship I’m sitting in right now. It’s named the S. S. Savior. What a perfect name.

         I’m so happy that I can’t even write anymore. Goodbye for now!!



                                              June 10th, 2567

         Earth has shown itself through one of the Savior’s windows. It looks just as I remember it. Seven continents, unlike the one huge one on Dar, as well as the separate oceans, so unlike the swamps that dot Dars surface. It’s all coming back. I can’t wait!

         This is going to be the last entry in this journal. I’ve decided to hide it. It holds too many memories.

         I just have one thing to say before I stop writing, something that, if he was still alive, my brother would agree with. We all have hope inside us. You just have to dig deep enough.