Rome

Island · 04-14-2009, 04:16 AM

This is a story about ancient Rome. To my knowledge, nobody has tried to do a fantasy story involving any other setting than suburban America, or University. So here goes:

The shackles on the boy's legs knocked painfully against his bruised ankles with every bounce and lurch of the carriage. It was possible to see the others, chained in a similar fashion, along the sides of the carriage by the light that filtered through holes in the fabric stretched over the top of the cart. Tattered garments hung over their thin frames, and weak moans of pain and hunger escaped them. For days they had not been moved from the carriage, and only a few scraps of food had been tossed in for them at random intervals when the caravan had stopped. When the fabric of the carriage was blown aside, or someone came to the back of the cart, the boy was able to see the rest of the caravan, as it wound its way along the dusty road, between dry, fallow fields, and the occasional stunted fruit tree.

The legions had come without warning, and they took everything. The boy's family was gone: he had watched his father die, and his mother, brothers and sisters had been taken as slaves, placed at random in the different carriages of the caravan. He was alone in his suffering now, with no knowledge of his whereabouts, or his family. He could only hope that his mother and sisters would survive the raping they would probably be subjected to. He shuddered with anger and hatred for his captors.

04-14-2009, 04:16 AM	#1
Island Junior Member Join Date: Nov 2007 Posts: 26	Rome This is a story about ancient Rome. To my knowledge, nobody has tried to do a fantasy story involving any other setting than suburban America, or University. So here goes: The shackles on the boy's legs knocked painfully against his bruised ankles with every bounce and lurch of the carriage. It was possible to see the others, chained in a similar fashion, along the sides of the carriage by the light that filtered through holes in the fabric stretched over the top of the cart. Tattered garments hung over their thin frames, and weak moans of pain and hunger escaped them. For days they had not been moved from the carriage, and only a few scraps of food had been tossed in for them at random intervals when the caravan had stopped. When the fabric of the carriage was blown aside, or someone came to the back of the cart, the boy was able to see the rest of the caravan, as it wound its way along the dusty road, between dry, fallow fields, and the occasional stunted fruit tree. The legions had come without warning, and they took everything. The boy's family was gone: he had watched his father die, and his mother, brothers and sisters had been taken as slaves, placed at random in the different carriages of the caravan. He was alone in his suffering now, with no knowledge of his whereabouts, or his family. He could only hope that his mother and sisters would survive the raping they would probably be subjected to. He shuddered with anger and hatred for his captors.