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The Tragedies of Ramontha

Published by Oyinlola Akindele on

A flash fiction..

Crash!

The sound of the broken cup startled them. They all turned towards Kulzora who quickly bent to pick up its pieces. Kulzora was shocked, knowing that a fate worse than doing their chores naked was soon to befall this young co-slave, a fate that had befallen her already.

Oyinlola Akindele Milohwithanh
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She had just heard their mistress order Ramontha to go serve their master, in the room. In his room! The same errand she ran a month ago, and had returned defiled, defiled by their masters pure skin and scarred soul. As she looked at Ramontha’s face, she could see fear, the fear of not serving the master well. “Poor girl”, Kulzora thought, “she should instead, be filled with the fear of serving the master too well”.

Still bent on the floor, Kulzora tried to warn her, to shield the 16year old Tanzanian slave from the looming evil, but her mouth dared not open as Miss Suzie always warned, “Never speak, unless inquired”.

Ramontha, however, proceeded towards the master’s room, a tray in her hands…

I close the novel, put off the lamp and lay on my bed. “I cannot handle this tragedy tonight. I’ll continue reading this tomorrow”, I say to myself.

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1 Comment

Tozara · August 6, 2020 at 8:54 pm

Poor girl”, Kulzora thought, “she should instead, be filled with the fear of serving the master too well”.

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Kulzora had experienced so much tragedy that she now viewd from an impersonal, philosophical perspective, ruminating about pain and sorrow, like a broken sage that had made peace with her wounds.

I can imagine the making of such a woman, the very experience Ramontha was to undergo. And I can equally imagine why both the reader and the writer would want to postpone describing such horror to either of themselves.

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