“But you have heard this story already, 19.” All of this continued to plague us until dark clouds begun to visit our continent…” Some borrowed until they could pay back no longer. Our water systems became murky with synthetic waste that would never, ever dissolve. Our population grew fiercely, but our industries suffered. Doctors, engineers and teachers left for greener pastures until no one was left to tend to home. People were being traded as slaves off the-then Libyan coast, centuries after abolition of the slave trade. Matter-of-fact voices on the radio reported these things, but no one did anything. Many would be lost to watery, salt-filled graves.ĭesperate-eyed people on television screens cried out warnings. Fighting and fearful, they had no captain to lead them.
Vile vortices history channel says not fact full#
Vomiting on each other, defecating in full view of the heavens. After the extreme difficulty of the journey across land, they would bob on the big blue sea – twenty in one tiny, inflatable boat. Beasts and harsh weather would devour them if hunger did not beat them to it. Up north, my people made long, arduous journeys across forests, mountains and vast thirstlands in order to escape to Europe. Poorer women, with only their fertility to sell, had begun to emigrate. At the swipe of a screen, people would buy and sell children. The world had changed so much during the information age, that convenience and immediate gratification fed into a live, voluptuary demon that only consumed and destroyed. Murmurs of scandal spread like bush fire across the land – tales of Enugu babies being made and sold in factories. “It all started many years ago – when whispers from the West begun. She speaks the way that she has spoken to all of them who were here before 19. To defeat the pain, she begins to narrate the tale. She does what her first doula said to do. She breaths in quick, short breaths, until it relaxes again. “You will get us into trouble! You need to be ready and well rested for today.” She feels the baby move around violently, causing her to mirror its minute hand with her own. Stripes run over the dark mound, each telling a story of whom they belong to. Her spirit joins the soul of that in the deep of her being – causing them to float as one – uncertain of their futures after this day.Ī thinly skin-gloved hand impresses from inside, against the inner walls of her velvet black belly. The penumbra on the wall reveals familiar furniture pieces as blue light slowly fills the room. The vibrations of her voice reverberate against the walls of the room, giving way to a new sun.
0 kommentar(er)
