This is a chapter sample from Chapter 2 titled Fear from my story Broken Fear.
An unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.
The sweat is rolling down my back, like beads of rain. Except it’s dirty, not refreshing and clean. The people around me slave, hacking away at the corn, tired and hot. Their wrinkles show how hard they’ve worked, with wisdom beyond their years, innumerable sufferings and pain. Many of them are older than me, but a few people my age are working as well. A girl around my age, brushes past me, I clutch her arm.
“Excuse me, could you show me the storehouse? I just want to go deposit my collections.” I tell her, even though I know this farm like the back of my hand. She smiles weakly at me, pushing her curly black hair out of her eyes.
“Sure, no problem. Just follow me.”
I follow her down paths and walkways until we come to a towering storehouse. It’s a big wood barn. That sways in the breeze. It’s dull against the vibrant blue sky. The doors hang off slightly and the paint chips away at the corners of the house.
“Here you go.” She gestures to the storehouse.
“I’m Isla by the way.”
“Rene, you’ll probably see me around.”
“Thanks, and I look forward to it.” I smile at her, and she returns the favor.
After a couple of hours separating crops in the workhouse, I go working in the field again. Pulling out handfuls, running it through my hands til the wheat and barley comes off. I wave at Rene at a point but I don’t think she sees. Eventually we work towards each other meeting in the middle. From a distance I hear shouting, I turn to see what’s happening. A man is shouting at the Master, Henry. Our master Henry has always been fair and rewarded us for being hard workers. Now he pushes the man, roughly, shouting aggressively. The man is dressed in a Regiment Guard’s Uniform, but it’s red instead of it’s normal navy blue. The buttons are gone and the tie is wrapped around his head. He looks young, with brown hair and heavy set eyebrows. He’s waving a huge a gun in the air, Henry waves him away, motioning to us workers. Just like that the man shoots him. The gunshot rings in my ears, Henry crumples to the floor like a rag doll. The gunman looks at us dazed workers and starts firing, workers starting falling down like dominoes. Everybody begins to run to the storehouse, the gunman sets a blaze to the crop. I grab Rene’s arm, she tries to pull away mesmerized by the fire.
“I know where to go.” I hiss. We sprint off toward the storehouse, and climb in the cellar. We sit breathless on the floor, the floorboards creaking above us. We can just about see through the cracks. Crying, people are huddled in groups, paralyzed with fear. There’s a collective gasp and then a threatening silence as somebody walks.
The man laughs sadistically, “Thought you could run from me, huh?”
A few people whimper and somebody stands up and attempts to punch the man. They are silenced with a single bullet. Something wet drips on to my cheek. Blood. It’s dripping through the gaps in the floorboard.