The Price of Freedom
For what seemed like the millionth time, I tried to get comfortable. I tried to shift slightly, but again,
as before, unseen others crowded me; their close proximity preventing any movement and fuelling
my claustrophobia. I guess the darkness was my greatest fear, its blanket of gloom at first merely
depressing me, but as time progressed it began to gnaw at me like an anorexic rat. I briefly
wondered if the others around me felt the same, but my companions remained mute.
The oppressive silence was maddening. I could hear some sounds, but they were muted, much like
my companions. I could not make out anything clearly – only muffled noises. From whom or what, I
could not tell. I sensed something else…something a part of me, yet totally alien – I sensed its
menace and shivered. What was this place? How did I get into this predicament? For the life of me, I
could not recall how I got here, or where ‘here’ was. I knew I had to get out - but out of what?
To pass the time, I tried recalling my childhood...
*
I never remembered my parents. I sensed that I was born – but Mum and Dad – no; I don’t recall
them. But I do remember other aspects of my childhood; the pungent smell of pine, the almost eerie
silence of the forest, the fragrant scent of myriad flowers with their insect helpers spreading their
life to other places, a sense of purpose, a sense of community. I remembered feeling very much
alive, in tune with nature and all of her creatures. I was a part of something big, something
important.
But that changed.
2
I recalled a cacophony of shrieks and indescribable pain which made me feel as if my whole being
was whittled down to my very soul. I became somebody very different that day. To what, ...
... middle of paper ...
...welcoming light, no warmth, only darkness and a morbid
feeling of finality.
This was it.
‘Hubert, I say, have you a light?
‘Remember, Montgomery, I gave up, you’ve got my matches.’
‘So I have, so I have.’ He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the matchbox that Stanford
had given him and opened it. Ah, I think there’s one left!
I was rudely grasped, hauled bodily from my cell and flung with incredible force against the wall.
My head exploded into exquisite agony, of a magnitude I have never experienced before. Yet, I am
content – it is my price for freedom.
***
8
James Montgomery eventually moved into the Twentieth Century. His beloved Meerschaum pipe
was now to be lit via the latest Bic cigarette lighter. So reliable. But his real reason was that matches
were just so impractical. Only good for one thing – one shot, one chance. How antiquated.
The idea of freedom, that America, founded its principles on, has not always successfully held up. Undoubtedly when our country first started, we had the idea in mind, that our constitution would protect the needs of its people, even as those needs alter; therefore it’s wording needed to be, ductile and interpretive. In recent years, this plasticity has become functional and fair, yet in the past, politicians used it to give and revoke, power, to and from people. Prior to the civil war, though it helped spark many of the social/civil revolution we know today, liberty and freedom were a luxury enjoyed by a few people. Woman, non-whites, and low-income people had their liberties denied, questioned or altogether abolished. However these same groups
My body could no longer move, and everything in the room was merely a blur to me. The sounds of people talking and the birds outside merely become cold empty sounds in my ears. I could barely hear or see anything anymore. I knew my end was drawing near.
The pursuit of freedom, recognition, and protection under the Constitution has been a struggle for African Americans. Their journey has been filled with slavery, physical and psychological torture, and persecution. While most of their hardships were experienced in the South, the North was not considered a safe haven unless an African American was a documented free slave. Even then they were not considered equal for a long time. While black and white abolitionists and free slaves in America were advocating abolishing slavery, Southern whites were willing to defend slavery's existence until they were forced to abandon it. This force, rooted in ethnocentrism, power, racism, and the pursuit of wealth, was difficult to overcome, but ultimately it was defeated through education, civil war, conflicting economic interests, rebellions, and courage.
The weight of the car pressed down on the bottom half of my body with massive force. It did not hurt simply because adrenaline pumped through me. All I could feel was the weight of the car’s hood pushing my body farther and farther into the ground. My lungs felt clamped shut and air would neither enter nor escape them. My mind was buzzing. What had just happened? In the distance, on that demonic road, I saw cars driving by completely unaware of what happened and how I felt. I tried to yell but my voice was unheard. All I could do was wait. Wait for someone to help me or wait to die.
I was frozen in place, I was petrified, I felt fucking stupid. I must have looked like a deer in headlights, I could even feel the strain on my eyes from holding my eyelids open so long. My weapon, slipped from my hand. It was pointless,
My mind spun into disaster, my brain suffocating me of oxygen and yelling that I was a disappointment. My stomach churned making my throat an acidic wasteland making my voice to vanish into thin air. My eyes stung as hot tears ran down my cheeks, leaving puffs of pink under my eyes.
finally seeing someone other than the empty void of nothing, though her lungs would not allow her to.
called for my Grandfather, and at His will, my Grandfather was taken from this life. My
became more distinct:?until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears?I
“America is the single greatest force for peace anywhere in the world.” (Nixon) Originally America was an experiment to explore the ‘New World,’ Britain’s once colonist, and home to numerous American Indian tribes. Rebellious America belligerent from being enchained to Britain, taxed voluminously with no representation on the British Parliament, decided to rebel. Taking its first steps to freedom. Its first steps to individualism. To paving history. From Manifest Destiney to buying land from other countries, America continuously grows. Home to millions, today America is the third largest country in the world; relinquishing second place to its reluctant little brother Canada. America can’t have all the attention of the world at all times after
...ming with life. The smell of the flowers was intense and enlivening. The breeze that was not restricted by car windows, the heat that was not reflected by a rooftop or eradicated by air conditioning, the rain that was not repelled by anything more than my poncho, I was one with all of it. As I biked past, I moo'd as loud as I could at the cows in the fields and felt happy doing it. I even occasionally rode in the van when I was tired.
What is the price of freedom that was paid, and is being paid? Freedom was paid with anguish, pain, time, and lives. We, the inhabitants of America, are fortunate to see this land where we have unalienable human rights that are just basic and essential statutes. There is always a cost for something; furthermore there is a price on our freedom. We pay taxes, follow the land and society¡¯s regulations, vote, and so on. The topic of importance and eminence is how, why, and what paid for our freedom.
My hand shaking at every thought, a cold shiver ran down my spine as cold sweat trickled down the side of my forehead. I lifted my hand up and a strong smell hit my nose, it was the smell of blood. I lifted the object and shock hit me like lightening, fear displaced my sadness, sickness changed my bloodstream from blood to a thick liquid pus and vomit. I held the muscle with my right hand as my left hand was paralysed with shock. The adrenaline shot me forcing me to move but shock shattered me into thin slices that were impossible to put back again.
...ed eyes, vision growing fainter, body becoming paralyzed, and the hum of the hospital machines muting to a dull throb. And slowly I rise, rise into the escape of pure bliss.
Stevenson, Ian. Children Who Remember Previous Lives. North Carolina: McFarland & Company, Inc., 2001. Print.