Once upon a time, in a land far away, their was a young servant girl named Alisha. Alisha was hardly content with being a slave to another, she felt that everyone had the right to be theirs, and their own, no person should be owned by another. On the day of her 13th birthday she was sold to a new master, she felt rejected, for her old master had been a kind man, and she felt that the compassion she had shown him had been in vain. Her new master, a cruel young boy only a few years older than Alisha herself, believed that those who were born lowly ought to stay that way, or else the world would be thrown out of orbit. His bad temper flared whenever he was around his fiercely independent slave, making him brutal to the point that she could hardly bear it. She had tried, oh so many times to escape his wrath, even resorting to being humble in front of him, but this only infuriated the man so that he ordered the girl to be beaten severely, after the first week of this unfairness, Alisha came to one of the cooks, to whom she’d grown close, and asked her if she would complete her chores for her, so that she could run away and be long gone before her master realized she was missing.
“Oh, but Alisha, Master Charles is not that bad once you get to know him!” The cook, Emily, said half-heartedly.
“I don’t wan to get to know him! He is horrible!” Alisha protested.
“If that is your decision then I suppose I can’t stop you, but I cannot risk my own position for your sake, I’m sorry.”
“I see, well thank you anyways.”
Emily turned away, Alisha took that as a signal and walked out the back door, looking to each side she hoisted herself up over the wall, and ran.
Several carts and wagons came to a screeching halt as she flew across the street, and into an ally on the other side. Taking many back-roads and allies, she made it to the outskirts of town, where she stopped and sat down, panting. The adrenaline that had pumped through her veins in the run was fading, and she took the time to look around; there was a baker selling his bread from a small cart, two young boys were playing a game of tag in the street and the mothers sat on the ground in front of the house, visiting.
Alisha picked herself up and wandered over to the baker, “Hello, How much are you rolls?” She asked, picking one up and hiding it it the folds of her skirt as the baker turned around.
“Normally, six shillings, but for a beautiful girl such as yourself, four shillings.” The pudgy baker replied with a not at all charming smile.
“Oh! That is very kind of you, but you see, I only have one shilling, so good day to you.” She turned and walked briskly away, leaving a puzzled baker man.
All of the sudden Alisha heard her name being yelled from somewhere in the distance, it sounded like her old master!
Emily must have told! That, that fool! Now my chances of hiding are little above zero! Alisha thought. She ran up to one of the mothers,
“Excuse me, mam? There is a boisterous young man looking for my hand in marriage, he is a very important slave and will be nicely dressed, may I hide in your home please?”
“Of course young lady,” She said, sounding amused, “But can’t you just say no?”
“Er, he won’t listen to me, he thinks I’m playing.” With that she ran into the house and ducked behind the sofa,
just as she heard her name being called in the street.