Stephen Harvey
One day, the little slave of the desert tribe sat round the fire, while the Master told him the news.
“Your big sister Jasmine has reached 16 today, and so she goes on to greener pastures.”
“Where’s my sister going?” he innocently asked.
“Oh, it’s a very special place,” the Master told his young slave.
“Far, far away, where the trees sparkle with dazzling blossoms, the flowers are beautiful, the air is fresh, and the fruit is plentiful. Your sister’s work days are over. Now she can live free.”
Harry’s eyes twinkled with delight at the news. It was his tribe’s custom, so he had learned, to free their slave children when they reached sixteen, and send them to a far away place.
The Master went on, telling Harry over and over the wonder and delight of the place all little slaves go when they come of age. He was filled with wonder and joy.
“I can’t wait to see it with my own eyes,” Harry said.
“Don’t worry,” he said, faintly smiling at him. “You will.”
Harry was twelve. For all his life, he had worked, slaved and toiled for his Master. It was not an easy life. He had loved his older sister very much. When the Master had her beaten, he felt it too. When he saw her tears, he spent the night secretly crying himself to sleep.
He was sad when his sister had to leave him, but deep inside, he was happy that her life of misery was now over.
She would be free.
She would be happy.
He had missed her very, very much the past four years, and had often cried himself to sleep. One night, the sound of his sobs disturbed the Master, who angrily awoke and had him severely thrashed. But he didn’t care. All he thought about was his sister.
“At least she is happy,” he thought.
He dreamed about her running free through the green pastures and trees, without a care in the world. The thought warmed his heart. It was such a great comfort to him through his sheer anguish.
One day, Harry himself reached sixteen. His heart leapt for joy – maybe it would not be long before he would see his sister again.
All slaves in that tribe have a special going-away party once they reach sixteen. Harry got to eat at the table with his Master, and got to partake of the most sumptuous food he had ever tasted.
“We want to thank you for all your hard service,” the Master said.
“The pleasure’s all mine, Sir,” Harry said obediently.
After the party, the Master led the slave outside. Harry was tingling with expectation. “This is it,” he told himself. “This is the day I am set free.”
“This is the day I get to see my beloved sister again.”
“Wait here,” said the Master, as his workers slowly approached them. Harry wondered what would happen next. Would they take him on a camel, through hundreds of miles of barren desert, to reach this amazing place? Would his sister be waiting for him, arms wide open, as he arrived? He was pondering these things as the leading workers arrived.
The Master whispered something in their ears, who nodded cheerfully, and smiled at Harry, as the workers set their eyes on him.
“I must leave you now,” said the Master. “Farewell!”
As he trundled off, the workers led Harry into a hut. He was glowing with joy, at the thought of looking into his sister’s eyes again.
His warm grin turned to a rather confused look as the workers laid their hands on him, removing his clothes. There, they firmly held him against the ground as they each took it in turns to brutally sodomise him. Harry cried out in pain, which caused the workers to kick him around the head.
At that point, Harry grasped the grim truth. The floor of the hut was slowly being soaked with blood, but he ceased to feel the pain. It didn’t feel real anymore.
He knew they were killing him. There was no distant, pleasant land. His sister had faced the same fate as he had. The comforting thought of her freedom had been a lie. His heart bled in sheer agony at the truth.
Harry just lay there, in an unreal daze, as his tormentors continued their attack. But he couldn’t feel it anymore. His body was no longer registering the pain. The hurt inside him was masking it. It was too much; it couldn’t help but overwhelm him.
In time, the hurt began to slowly fade, as the noise of the smug laughter and cheering of the workers started to become distorted, garbled. The image of his attackers, blurred through his tears, seemed to swirl around as a peculiar mass of colour, and even the shaking and thrusting of his body melted away into a dizzy, floating feeling, just before everything faded out to blackness, darkness. Stillness.
Harry let out his last gasp. The workers, grinning at each other, seemed pleased at their achievement.
They carried his corpse out of the hut, to outside the Master’s family dwelling, where he was sacrificed to the family’s favourite god in the traditional tribal ritual. The succulent young body was roasted in the process, and the family and their closest neighbours enjoyed a bountiful feast of human flesh.
Moral of the story:
Harry, the young slave = You
The tribe = Humankind
The desert = The world
The Master = Life as it is now
The tribe’s custom = Death and dying
Jasmine, Harry’s elder sister = Your diseased loved ones
Story of the Greener Pastures = Religious beliefs of life after death
Going away party = Last rites, preparing you for heaven
Harry’s killing = The grim reality of death as the end
Harry sacrificed and eaten = Your inevitable rotting in the earth as no
more than fertiliser