Daniel

I was so sore. In my hands was an empty cup of water. My hands were shaking. I looked down at the empty cup. It was hot and I was still thirsty. I tried not to move to prevent getting hotter. I leaned against the cold brick wall. I listened to the other boys in their cellars. Some were asleep, others were in pain, and some just cried. No one knew that this would happen to them. I closed my eyes, trying to remember the days when I was happy and safe.



It felt like years ago, although it was only less than a year. I was with my father, studying to be a carpenter. My father was tall, thin, and a happy soul. Although we were poor, he was thankful for everything. The villagers saw my father as a good man. My mother was just as happy as my father. She always smiled and sang to me before bed. She was so beautiful, like an angel. My parents were truly good people that God created. I was proud of my parents and I was happy as well. I was their miracle child since mother lost many children before they were born. My parents told me that I was small and they thought I would not survive a day, but then I survived a week, then a month, then a year. They named me Daniel, after the man who was sent into the lions pit and survived the next day. They told me that God gave me a reason to live. I was special.



I woke up to a loud sound from the end of the hall. The guards came in with meat. I crawled towards the bars and watched as the guards teased the other boys one by one with the meat. When they came to me, I sat still. I pretended not to acknowledge them or the meat they were holding.
“Give it to him,” I heard one of the guards say in Latin, “This one is a champion,” and they put the meat in my cell. When they were out of sight, I grabbed the meat and ate it as if at any moment someone would take it away from me. I did not waste any meat. I did not even spare anything for the rats in my cell. I ate all the way to the bone. I was starving.



It was during the Sabbath when the Romans came. My father and the other men were gathered to the center of the village. My mother took me away from my friends and made me stand by her. We watched, as the Romans were about to give their announcement. There was to be a census for the Emperor of Rome. Every man had to return to the land of his ancestors and bring his family with him. My mother gasped and covered her mouth. My father looked at us with worry. I knew what this meant. We had a long journey. We had to travel to Jerusalem.



I leaned against the wall of my cell and tried to get as close to the window as possible to catch the cool, night air. It was a bit cold, but it was better then being too warm. There was a nice cool breeze. I then decided to lie down so that most of my body could cool down. I stared up at the night sky and saw the moon. While lying there I prayed to God to protect me and help me survive. Although I knew my life was terrible and worthless, I still could hear my father’s words. “God is always with us, especially during times of need,” That night, I feel asleep to those words.



I woke up to the cries of the people we were traveling with. I woke up scared and I could not move. Around me were people, horses, and of course, Roman soldiers. I sat there, crying, not knowing what was going on. My mother held on to me and my father helped the men fight the Romans. They were taking our food and supplies for the journey. I cried and everything happened so quickly. Some soldiers got off their horses and pushed the men aside or fought them. The men had no chance against their swords. There were too many of them. One soldier grabbed my mother and another soldier grabbed me. The soldier grabbed me by the hair and made me let go of my mother’s hand. I screamed and yelled for them to stop. When I let go of her hand, the soldier tossed me to the ground. When I looked up, the soldiers and my mother were gone. I saw my father and yelled for him and then I saw a Roman soldier stab him. I was alone. My happy life ended.



I woke up to the morning sun and just like the day before I was hungry and thirsty. I got up in time to see the guards bring in bread. They placed the bread in my cell and I gulped it all down. They later came back with water. I leaned against the wall, waiting for them to take me out of my cell. One guard came around noontime and took two boys out of their cells and then stepped in front of mine.
“Are you ready?” he asked in Latin and I nodded. I got up as he opened my cell and I walked towards him. He linked my chains to the other two boys in front of me. We walked up the steps that lead out of the cellar and the guard brought us to a room. We were each given to a person to clean us. I was bathed and got my hair cut extremely short. I was also given a new loincloth to wear. The guard came back to gather the other boys and I. I looked at us and smiled at me.
“Ready?” he asked and once again, I nodded.



I was able to make it to Jerusalem. However, no one cared. I was thirsty, starving, tired, and hot. I was still very sad over my father’s death and mother’s disappearance. I walked up to a vendor, staring at the food. The man got a stick and chased me away. I decided to go to the temple and pray to God although I had no offering. I looked at the Rabbis but none of them gave me any attention and told me to leave. I went back to the streets and eventually sat down at a corner and fell asleep. When night fell a Roman soldier awaked me. He asked me questions, but at this time I did not understand Latin, only Hebrew. The soldier made me stand up and looked at my features. He then grabbed my arm and took me to a house.



“What do you want?” asked the guard. The boys and I looked at the weapons that our master had to offer. I picked a sword and a shield. My personal favorite. The other two boys choose their favorite weapons, although I could tell that one boy was new. Once we choose our weapon, the guard took us to the waiting room. He pointed at the new boy. He got up, shaking and scared. The guard took him outside.



The house was polish and filled with vases, flowers, fruits, furniture, and it was clean and smelled wonderful. The soldier took me to a man dressed in Rome’s finest clothing. This man was a rich and sitting next to him was a boy about my age. The soldier and man exchanged words in Latin. Then the man got up from his seat and looked at me. He checked my arms, teeth, hair, and legs. The man smiled and gave the soldier a small bag that I could tell had coins in it. The boys, his son I presumed, did nothing but sat there eating grapes. The man gave me to a servant and that was the start of my new life.




The guard came back and took the other boy. After what seemed like forever, the guard came for me and I stood proudly. The guard took me to the arena and once I was in, he closed the gate. I looked around and watched the citizens of Rome cheer and yell. I looked across the arena and saw my opponent. A boy about my size and weight with a sword that seemed to have come from Egypt. He had no shield. When the horn sounded, we charge at each other.
The boy was strong but I could tell he did not have the experience I had. He was able to cut me on my leg, but I was able to cut him on both his arms. When we both got tired, two guards came in and took away our weapons. We both stood there, staring at each other, with just our fists and feet. We once again charge at each other and his fists felt like pillows. They were too soft but I could tell that my punches really hurt him. He was able to punch me in the face and made my lip bleed, but when I looked at him, he was coughing up blood.
I charge at him and we both fell to the ground, rolling on top of each other, trying to get the other pin down. We punch, kick, and scratch each other. He was a worthy opponent. Eventually his strength gave in and I was on top. I punch him and over and over again until he was very weak. A guard came in and placed a few weapons on the ground and then left. I walked over and grabbed a knife and walked back to the boy who was still lying on the ground, moaning in pain and trying to roll over. He coughed up more blood.
I put my foot on his chest and he looked up at me. He was tired, sweating, and he had fear in his eyes. He knew this was it. I looked up to the game master. Waiting for his orders. He put out his fist in the air and I looked down at the boy.
“What is your name? Who are you? Please tell me so I can die with honor,” the boy said in Latin.
“Marius,” I told him.
“No. Your real name,”
“Daniel,”
“Hebrew, no? My name is Ammon,”
“Egyptian?”
“Yes. Kill me, please,” I looked up to see the game master. He knew that we were speaking, but no one cared. We were only pawns to them. We were their entertainment. We were nothing more but slaves. Slaves fighting to the death.
The master pointed his thumb down and everyone cheered. I looked down at Ammon and he nodded. He closed his eyes and prepared for it. I had done this so many times and every time I feel terrible and guilt. But none of them were like this boy. Ammon was prepared to die, my other opponents struggle and did not seem human. They became monsters. I was struggling to put the knife into Ammon’s heart but I knew that if I did not do it, I would be killed to.
“I’m sorry,” I told him and I stabbed him. I wanted to survive because I always fought to the end. When it was over, everyone in the audience cheered, but I kneeled down next to Ammon and weep. The guards came out and took me away.
I was whipped before returning to my cell. We are not allowed to show emotions. We are not supposed to show pity to our opponents. When I was alone in my cell, I looked up towards the sky. I got on my knees and prayed. I prayed for God’s forgiveness and to show me mercy. As I was praying I cried and moaned. I was no longer a survivor. I became a monster.