We languished for hours in the cage alone. Then we could hear the tapping sound of feet coming closer and closer till the room once more burst into life. They were largely ignored to the rear. Most of their conversations were indecipherable. But, my heart suddenly lifted when I heard some Irish being spoken between two of the boys and learned that their leader was called Barabus. Both of them were in shabby, dirty clothes. The red-haired freckled boy looked the elder at about thirteen years of age. He had a bruise on his left eye. The other boy with brown hair and light blue skin looked no more than eleven years of age. There was a great sadness in their eyes.
Then the man they called Barabus returned and immediately set about interrogating his minions about the status of their progress. At times he shouted his displeasure, or else he would hit them with his fist reducing some of them to a bawl of tears. Each boy and girl nervously awaited their return.
“He’s a monster,” Tabitha whispered in my ear.
I gently nodded in agreement not wanting to catch his attention.
Then they dispersed as quickly as they had gathered.
Mark's Writing Corner 