Chapter 7

Chapter VII

Samuel lay scrunched into a ball, unnaturally silent and solemn for an eight-year-old. There had been constant chaos and disorganization around him, but then the cacophony ceased and stillness reined the room. Ten minutes had passed since the silence started, but he was still trying to wrap his head around an odd event which happened earlier. After the band had taken him away, they had entered an adjacent room for one of the older classes and had deposited him into a burlap sack, tying the top to prevent escape. All around him then, the incessant rowdy chatter he would later see to be characteristic of the group ensued, but a small cluster of people were whispering around him words and phrases indistinguishable to Samuel. ‘They seem mad; maybe they’re mad because someone took me and now they want to let me go,’ whimpered Samuel to himself. It was a feeble and unrealistic hope, yet still Samuel clung to it. And he was correct in his observation; the voices of the small group, though at the beginning controlled and poised, became agitated and violent as the conversation lurched on.

Amazingly, Samuel didn’t shed a tear; he was too dazed from the recent string of events to cry. He didn’t feel sad, nor did he feel hopeless. No, it was fear which grabbed his heart viciously and clenched around his gut, knitting it into tight knots. It was soon replaced with apprehension as he heard a man approaching, right before their departure. Most of the Grenadores were outside, busy saddling horses. Those that were in the room were absorbed in their own tasks, giddy with anticipation for the raid that lay ahead. The man hastily untied the knot preventing the little boy from emerging from the sack, revealing a quivering Samuel. Instead of harming or insulting him, he began to stroke his hair, a mix of expressions fluttering through his face, passing one by one and contorting his face into different forms. Samuel wanted to cower away from the burly man, but the small free room in the sack did not allow for him to do much more than shake his head vigorously. The man steadied his head, and, seeing a feeble look take over Samuel’s visage, loosened his grip on his face and said, “Oh, if you only knew what drove me to do this, maybe you would understand why I acted the way I did.” He paused slightly, then added, “You have Maria’s eyes, the most marvelous eyes. Sometimes it still feels like yesterday…”

His voice trailed off, letting go of Samuel’s face and once more closing the mouth of the sack. This time though, he left an easily undoable knot. He called out to another man crouching near the side exit, working on repairing a lightweight wooden chest. “Hey Huston, you need to wrench the next bottle I take out of my hands, man, I’m so drunk.” He was babbling as if in a happy stupor, and his balance suddenly became impaired. Huston grabbed hold of one of his shoulders with his left hand and his box with the other, and together they staggered to the crowd of horses and people, ready for departure.

For causes which defied his own reason, Samuel didn’t stir from inside the sack. Why did that man come and open the sack? What’s more, why didn’t he tie it back up tightly, leaving a knot he could easily undo? Was he genuinely kind? Or was it just the crazy ramblings of a drunk? Slowly, he opened the sack and went out of it, the burlap itching his exposed arms. He scoped the room as he stretched, glad to be outside the bag. The room was empty, save for the chairs and tables for teaching. It was also dark, as the curtains were drawn over the windows, but the room was partially illuminated by a filter of sunlight coming through the door to the main entrance room where they had been ambushed from a wall which stood partially reduced to rubble. ‘This is my chance,’ thought Samuel. ‘I can run away back to my house and tell everything to Bessie and everything would be all right.’ He exited the room, jumping at the sound of a dragonfly which managed to fly into the room and buzz unexpectedly past his ear. As he reached the entrance, though, he heard the whooping and cheering of the Grenadores reapproaching, this time from the front entrance. They were closing in on the schoolhouse fast, and he leapt into the first room and back into the sack, toppling it onto its side to hide the now untied strings and feigning sleep. He had barely a moment to spare when the man he talked to earlier came back amongst the others entering, took a look at the sack, and, seeing it in its present state, tied the knot several times tightly, rage having come across his face.

Author's Note

This is the first chapter from Samuel's, the kidnapped, point of view. I kind of put it off because I didn't know exactly where I wanted to go with it, but here it is. Please don't hesitate to review and rate.