"Move, you insufferable, feckless creature! Move!" Damn, we were approaching tax collection season, and yet those charcoal creatures performed worse than my production forecast in the last few months.

I missed my home in the West. Surrounded by massive modern architecture, gentlemen and ladies on the street, only refined manners when doing everything, ohh... how I missed those delicately scented teas, the soft and moist cake. Even so, I couldn't go back yet.

I lifted the pendant that hung around my neck. The gold color symbolizes wealth, with some Middle Eastern scripture on the back of it that, according to experts, means "the one who prospers." Every time I become unmotivated, I always saw those scriptures, imagining myself swimming on a mountain of gold. In different cases, like right now when I had a case of homesickness, I open the pendant. Inside was a photo of a beautiful ginger lady with a sharp nose and pale complexion. The lady was wearing a flashy red gown that, in some way, complemented her generous breasts. I stroked the picture with my hand, imagining that the person inside the photo could feel the warmth of my hand. "Alicia. Just wait for a bit; I'll be back soon, and then we can make a proper family." I closed the pendant.

Now let's return to reality. Here I'm many miles away from my home, surrounded by a godless, illiterate subhuman tribe, and forced to work for meager pay with the promise of gold.

I'm currently looking into a cliff that was surrounded by chalk stone and was near one of those long rivers. There was a report indicating that one of the cliffs had a crevice that is suspected by many experts to be the location of gold. Of course, as a grunt, I was ordered by the higher-ups to instruct the charcoal creature to collect any gold I could find.

The job was always the same, with little to almost no variation. I just pointed to what is suspected to be a gold location. The interpreter, who knew little English, will instructed his fellow men to dig at the spot I just pointed to. From here on out, I must observe carefully. Every time someone seems to be slowing down, stopping to work, or even breaking the tool provided by the motherland, I would swiftly whip that creature. I've been doing this job for 8 years (not long compared to the veteran), and I've discovered that the best places to whip those creatures were their back, shoulder, and thigh. If you are angry and exude more force than what was necessary, you may cause your slave to retire early if you hit their torso, but if you hit the three spots I mentioned really hard, the worst that could happen was the whip head tearing their skin and causing some bleeding. Cruel, you might say, but it was necessary to keep those lazy creatures on schedule. All you needed was one crafty person, and the next day, that same individual will teach his peers to potentially skip work or, worse, do no work at all. Compared to us, these charcoal creatures were really lazy without outside stimuli.

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"Excuse me, mister." One of them approached me, bowing his head. I couldn't recognize him after looking at his face; their faces were too similar; I even forgot their names. Good thing there was a white streak made of paint that indicated that he is, in fact, an interpreter. "What do you want?" I said. "We found gold." "Are you really sure?" "Yes mister." "C'mon, bring me to that spot. If it's real, then I'll grant all of you a day of rest, but if it's not the gold I was promised to, then you should be aware of the consequence." "I understand, mister," said the interpreter, and yet I didn't think this imbecile really understands how much torture I would inflicted on them if it turns out to be a waste of time.

"This way, mister." He guided me through a dense shrubbery; the location deviated a bit from the map, but as long as it was near the river, there was a possibility you could find gold. "C'mon, mister, this way." He made me walk a bit more again. "Just a bit more, mister." Then I found myself trapped in the middle of a forest.

A mosquito just bit me, and I thought the rustling was from some of those pesky tropical insects that have latched onto my cloth. The situation, combined with the heat, only irritates me further. I stopped my track, looking at the interpreter's eyes. "I won't move for an inch more." "You better tell me where the gold is right now or not only you but your family will wish they've never been alive." I'm not sure how much English he understands, but hearing that the interpreter looked down, his eyes hidden, made me wonder about his intention. "No gold." "What, I can't hear you?" "There is no gold."

With great reflex, I tried to lift the leather whip on my hip, and then, in just a moment, five of those gigantic charcoal creatures had detained me. One pins my head to the ground; the other four hold on to both of my legs and arms.

"You. Release me right now! You'll never have a safe life," "Don't you realize that by doing this, you've just spelled doom for your entire tribe?" When I looked into the interpreter's eyes, all I saw were those black voids in his pupils.

The interpreter was digging in the dirt with his scrawny arm. Only then do I realize what he was about to do. A crudely made stone knife with a blunt and jagged edge emerges from the ground. He approached my helpless body slowly, as if enjoying himself.

"No! stop! " "What are you doing? Please God save me, don't do it!" "Don't do it!" I shook my body, trying to run off, but the five people holding me were too strong. All my struggling attempts only made me look like a fish that was swimming on land.

The blade was just in front of me. It became closer and closer. Now I could feel the cold sensation of the stone. The interpreter was saying something, but I'm too panicked to understand it. He swung his arm, and a river of blood came out of my neck. It hurts! it hurts! it hurts! it hurts! it hurts! it hurts! it hurts! it hurts! it hurts! Because of the stone's jagged edge, I didn't die swiftly, and seeing my face, the interpreter swung the knife once more. The sensation I felt was the most painful I've ever experienced. And then came the last swing; it was less painful, I didn't have much blood to pour, and then I left this world.

From the depths of my heart, I wanted to curse them, but I couldn't even muster my voice with my throat exposed. I'm starting to lose my vision, and the last thing I saw were those charcoal creatures grinning like the demons they were.