When I woke up that morning I had hopes and aspirations that my dream would have been true. That maybe I would have been rescued and managed to escape, leaving my prison far behind; a distant memory. I might spend my days laughing and frolicking in fields, instead of slaving away in the yard. Alas it was, as I knew deep down, never to be.
It was dark outside still but the crowing of the cockerel had awoken me, just as it always did. There would be time to wash and dress before a rushed crust of bread and then it would be daylight.
I hated daylight. It brought the yard to life. It woke the overseers and meant that it was time to work. Daylight was work. If that flaming orb was high enough in the sky to see your hand in front of your own face you had to work.
I washed quickly with the cold water I had brought to my room the night before. I say room only because I had three solid walls and only one was solid metal bars, so it wasn't as bad as the cells that some of the others had to make do with. At least here I had some privacy. I could do my business behind the curtain without anyone seeing. I could wash without exposing myself to the neighbours in the quarters on either side of my own as well.
There was no lock on the section of the bars that swung like a door. This was not a prison necessarily. We had all come here of our own free will. But oh how it had changed with time...
I dressed in the one outfit I had. It was as basic as could be and since I only had one garment to wear I had washed it so many times in a bucket of cold water that the material had started to become nearly transparent in places. There simply was no room for waste though and so I wore it. I had no choice.
I made my way to the kitchen. I was the first one there as always. It hadn't always been this way, but I had learned that being first was important. I didn't think there was a chance in hell that I'd ever be the last one here again. Oh I had certainly learned my lesson that day.
Grabbing a large handful of crusty bread I walked to the corner of the room and took a seat. I ate alone. I didn’t speak to anyone else if I could help it. I had learned my lesson about that too. I had learned it very well.
Once I had finished I went to the wall at the far side of the room from where the bread waited for the others. I selected a sturdy vest and arm length gloves from the assortment that hung there. Being first meant that I would most certainly get a matching pair that wasn’t completely unserviceable. It was imperative to have good gloves in this line of work. You soon regretted it if you didn’t.
The others were beginning to arrive. They came in small groups of twos and threes mostly. I used to come in a group as well, but that was a long time ago. I had been new then, like they were now. My experience had hardened me. It had broken me. I didn’t laugh like they laughed. I didn’t care any longer about how neatly the bow had been tied at the back of my vest. All that mattered was that it stayed tied. I had learned that and someday they would too.
I watched the floor near the door to the yard as still more of them came. Their incessant chattering and laughing made me feel sick to my stomach and gave me a throbbing headache. I ground my teeth together. Soon they would learn.
The moment finally came. I could see the sunlight slowly stream onto the earthen floor through the crack at the bottom of the door. I was time. I got up and walked to the door, taking a moment to look at the others. The ones that had been here for awhile saw me and made a mad dash for the gloves and vests. Inevitably there wouldn’t be enough to go around. Some would have to make do with the scraps. Some would have two gloves intended for the same hand. They would curse this day. And there were always a few that would have no gloves at all.
Opening the door I let the sun beat against me for a moment before I exited the kitchen. I could hear the frantic scramble reach a crescendo behind me now. I confidently walked out to the yard, leaving the chaos behind me.
I selected a yoke from the pile near the door. It comprised of a long wooden bar with two buckets on either side. When I first arrived here it was one bucket that was carried by hand. The yokes came later with smaller buckets on each side. The bucket size had increased twice since I had been here though. They knew we could carry more. Not enough of us were wiped out with each gradual increase but now with buckets this size we moved much more slowly. It was painful work. Not a day went by there I didn’t question if I’d be able to survive one more load, but I always survived. That was the problem.
Loading the yoke onto my back I made my way to my first stop.
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