“The sins of the father are visited upon his children.”
As far as ideal situations go,lying in a pool of you’re own blood in the school laundry room isn’t one of them.A close second is being stabbed by the school prefect.But thats just the situation im in.And if im honest its my fault. Whenever I heard of revolutions I thought of these righteous causes. Causes like the hatian slaves driving away their french masters.I guess I was naive and short sighted.Seeing myself more as a hatian slave when I was actually a slaver.I was the seed of a man who enjoyed fruits of a labour he had not sown.I was among a class of children borne from those who had bankrupted oure entire nation.I had heard stories like this before,about him.But I use to think they are just those kind of people,the same kind of people who beleive in the illuminati. Those who dont understand that it takes hardwork.Though it would be fair to say I didnt come up with all that in my young mind but rather it was heavily suggested to me.Power corrupts and it corrupts fully I guess.
My father wanted me to have a life which I understood the value of toil under the sun,the irony must have been lost on him.So I went through the system every child went through. The same system that the children whose futures he had stolen went to.From whose struggling parents brought them here out of necessity but mine brought me here out of pretentiousness. So maybe me being stabbed is the balancing of the scales.Or maybe im being dramatic. But how it got to this point is not very unusual in all fairness.We use to get reports on the tv and newspapers about the massacres and assassinations of government officials.And a state of emergency had even been declared.It didn’t register as much to me,after all were just school children what did it have to do with us?We had a national exam coming up,the most important of our lives.Each sunday in service the sermon became predictably boring,”love you’re neighbour”,”do not envy you’re neighbour”.What did it matter to me?The future was bright and my exams were coming up soon.What did a recession or everyone losing their jobs have to do with me?Our classes had started getting thinner cause so many kids couldn’t afford to the fees anymore. But mine was paid a year in advance,so what difference did it make?Life is hard sometimes.
Then one day we were all called to the laundry room.We always use to meet there because it was so large.By “all” i don’t have a good answer,there was just a list of names called by the prefects and we were to meet in the laundry room.I had an uneasy feeling because it was a most peculiar list.
All levels were called even those below me.and it as some odd mix of characters.We didn’t have much in common.Except we did but i didn’t just want to believe that was really the rationale behind this peculiar list.Anyway we were all there.And “all” weren’t that many probably less than 20 but more than 15.the doors were locked.Another red flag.And then suddenly i saw the glistening knives.This must have been how king Louie must have felt when he saw the mass of men outside his palace,there to march him to his beheading.It was surreal,the younger ones fell first and the older ones fell soon after.Some fought but i didnt.I had spent time with my nose in a book and very little building up any semblance of physical strength.So thats how i ended up in a pool of my own blood, I only hope this blood will wash away the sins of my father.