Thinking Twice, Sarah Eva Casey [speld decodable readers .txt] 📗

The clouds hung low, leaving a suffocating toxic atmosphere sticking to the skin. The sun beaming down at the equator was so hot any typical American or Canadian would get sunstroke. Irritation and frustration were only thoughts while anger of the oppressed was a continuous echo. Labouring from dusk until dawn was daily, the whips were the least of their pain. For slavery, the lost emotions were what triggered a sore spot, bleeding on the inside without notice.

It was a typical day in the continent of Africa, sand storms howled, beaming the slaves in the face while the “royalty” kept inside examining the slaves work. To the higher class, slavery was amusing. Just watching it satisfied their twisted happiness. For years slavery has been a problem in Africa but generally it becomes unnoticed and forgettable.
As the innocent people ranging from ages 4-30 worked hard, attempting to survive off of the few resources they had planted, diseases struck without medication to cure and starvation overtook many. Contamination was horrid. Industries would throw out their waste and poisonous gases/liquids into the streams leading up to where these Africans would wash their clothes, bathe and drink, unaware that the brown liquid normally clear bluish was deathly.
The family foundation in Africa was dreadful. The amount of families broken up over every year is unbelievable, leaving the children and parents separated in a mess, contemplating their family’s safety and where they were at any given moment. At times the children were far to young to even realise they didn’t have their own parents and were separated very young. The cruel leaders would sell them for money to different continents or countries, while the innocent children would be used for sex or to work unemployed and without education. Children sold and bought were useless, their only other option were to be killed.

Few families stuck together after catastrophes such as losing or never meeting one-another. The mourning would remain a steady pace and depression was the only known emotion.
Anaya and her family, had a different situation, brought up in a royal family by ancestry but her parents remained slaves. Her younger sister, four months old Taka, and older brother just about to turn thirteen, Kato were the glue to her happiness. Since Anaya was born, the family of five had been living the luxuries in their own house, no work, food, all from the benefits of the ancestors. They had been very well-off for a long time.

Anaya was turning 12, in the summer months coming up, her long black hair hung low on her head in a braid just below her waist. She had her mother‘s looks and her fathers eyes, big green eyes and the slim but athletic body, cocoa and beautiful, as her mother‘s. The time when her birthdays came around were worth waiting for . The whole family would all be spending more than enough time swimming in the waterfalls up on the other side of the mountain, where the water wasn’t contaminated just yet. Those summers were the most memorable when her brother and her would do cannon-balls off the big rocks into the deep waters feeling the cool of the water brush up on their hot faces. Taka would be in mom’s arms, paddling her feet fast while her feet skimmed the water and Dad would either sit there relaxed watching, or join in with the water wars, play fighting Kato.
The experiences of such a close family were completely irreplaceable. The smiles, laughter and differences were all based on one thing, love. The kind of love that is unconditional. The kind that can turn a total wrong situation opposite. This kind of love the family had was so strong that if they lost one another, the world would stop. And that’s just how it stayed.


For years, the family would peer over to the neighbouring village, see all the racism and abuse their people went through. It was a let down, a sad time when all the innocent Africans could do was work until they bled or worse, died. But it was never a worry as they watched, no one knew were they lived, with no neighbours only mother nature and her protection. The family together were friends and the only ones they would need.
However Anaya tried for years to make attempts and venture over to the other side of the mountain, staring at that once innocent town which was getting town apart by abusers, so racist it was unbearable and disgusting. Anaya had once made an acquaintance with a little boy above their house, adjacent to the waterfall, but surely it was strictly forbidden in all causes and ways. If her father ever found out, he too could turn into an abuser. Today was a day of new, Anaya was turning 12 and had seen enough of these domestic physiological abusers who had nothing better to do than laugh in the presence of the poor slaves who sacrificed their lives to collect their benefits they longed for but couldn’t find themselves.
It was a game of power once thought upon. The only winners were the rich with weapons, who were basically cheating.

So many innocent girls were brutally beaten if instructions weren’t obeyed. Hit on the head, whipped until blood was present or hit continuously with a stick. Sometimes, the screams were so piercing and dreadful they could be heard from miles away. Anaya wasn’t allowed to venture over to the other side because of these reasons, her father once witnessed his sister abused.

At the age of seven, Anaya’s dad, Kayo was playing with his older sister Cheam who he had known from birth, although didn’t fully remember every detail since then. They were two peas in a pod, every activity and every moment was spent together, Cheam was more mature than many of the girls in the village, she had strange looking features, but it made her beautiful. Especially when her brown waves blew in the wind creating a movie star look, au-natural. Cheam adored her little brother Kayo, never letting anyone bully him or torment him. She was his protector, his guidance since their parents had passed away from illnesses. The day Cheam was taken away was the most vivid and worst memory Kayo still today remembers. The pain and anger he felt came back every now and then as an adrenaline rush creeping up, when old feelings surfaced.
The day of anger made the clouds cry, and air pressure hurt heartbeats was the day something bad was bound to happen. Cheam and Kayo were playing away in the fields along a hillside not far from the village or their house ( still in the same house today). The hillside they played on numerous times was just high enough so the sunrise had an enchanting look and outstanding scenery, the kind frozen in time with a clip of a picture (“now-a-days“). Mother natures beauty could not be beat or even up for competition.

Innocently playing their game of tag until sunset, Cheam and Kayo would sit there and talk for some time, not knowing they were being watched from the village of “hell”. In a matter of minutes Cheam was being tackled to the ground while Kayo was wrestling with a man over 200 pounds heavier. Cheam’s eyes were watering, she yelled at him to go, desperately. Three men carried away Kayo’s sister leaving towards the village, as Kayo tried to run after and hurt those men, one turned around with a look of only someone so evil and slashed his legs with his stick. In a matter of seconds now, Kayo was on the ground grunting for a breath, but the pain so unbearable crept up his spine while he lye there on the ground helplessly.
Cheam was covered in blood, he could see it from the distance as she yelped loud, full of pain and agony. This was a complete nightmare in all sorts. Her white robe was torn and the men disgusted him as they touched his sister, his best friend. He just wanted to get up and show them all how it felt to be hurt emotionally and physically but he couldn’t. Tossing a rock, hoping somehow it could create a distraction did no good to his poor sister who was beat in the head until she stopped fussing. The men continued with this abuse until she stopped moving. Then stripped her down, one by one they finished their business, hit her in the head and went back triumphantly to the village.

Kayo’s eyes hurt while he thought of this. His heart mourned when he remembered crawling over with his broken ankles begging for Cheam to get up, covering her with her once innocent clothing. He didn’t understand why they ran after them at the top of the hill, he wanted them all to die and never do it to anyone again, but no one would listen to a young boy at the age of seven. Kayo’s life carried on once he found his love of his life, Preeta, whom he fell instantly in love with and had his three wonderful children he would die for. But the memories of his best friend were boundaries not to be crossed and rules his children obeyed so he could keep them by his side.


So Anaya, as curious as she was, never did venture over to the other side. Instead she thought of a way to communicate to this one time acquaintance above their house. The little boy would walk to collect food among the forests for his family who were all very sick. He would normally leave just before sunset, leaving only one problem, it was Anaya’s bedtime. Being a smart young lady, Anaya wrote a letter on a leaf, leaving it in a bottle just below the tree where they had first saw one another. Almost excited, Anaya wandered up to the tree placed the leaf directly underneath the tree discreetly, where visible, came back down and waited patiently for him to leave and notice.
After what seemed like hours of waiting , she sat outside with her family cooking antelope, her father had hunted down and courageously brought back to the family to eat. Her mind pondered in thought waiting for this boy she was interested about. While the family enjoyed there gourmet dinner, Anaya sat smiling content as can be and suddenly saw a dark figure lift up something underneath a tree far above them. She watched every moment, his head turning as if he was watching her family down below stealthily. Her eyes so curious zoned out in belief.
The moon was beaming, lighting up their territory, there was nothing quite like a moon lit sky accompanied by millions of dead old stars, stuck in their fixed positioned results. It was almost perfect, too perfect and that made the nights in Africa awfully mysterious most nights.

As the family went to sleep Anaya decided to go against her father’s will and cross the boundary, venturing up along the hillside where the little boy was. She tip toed up the hill, as quiet as possible, trying not to wake up her parents. The little boy was in the distance, noises gave off where he was hunting, the sounds of his concentration and determination echoed in the hollow hills of this cold yet beautiful continent.
Anaya continued her adventure tuning out all of the awful things her father had told and explained to her what happened to little girls who were caught by the village guards. Filled with