The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 7

"Please...speak to me." Arthur desperately groaned inside a compacted and cold, dark room.

His long legs were nearly touching his chin. The man could see faint traces of his breath every time he breathed in and out. The air inside his dwelling was thin and vapid. Just making the slightest move was a strenuous ordeal. But within all and such rancor, the man persisted in talking; he kept on and on incessantly beseeching until his throat began to go dry.

Arthur could see his hands within the scant light that dared to creep in through various apertures inside his compartment. In his eyes they appeared more like alien appendages than his own body parts. For the first time in his life he didn't even recognize either of them.

"I call upon thee, my lord. Come to me and—

"Why do you call upon me?" The voice sounded annoyed.

Arthur's attention at that very second lit up with the exuberance of a child's wonderment. Forgetting that he was inside such a tiny containment, the man attempted to sit up only to bump the top of his head against the ceiling.

"I...I call upon you for aid." He stretched out his arms as far as he could. "I call upon you for strength; I long to feel its power in my veins once more."

"But I once granted you aid and strength, and you perverted it." The voice calmly uttered.

"But someting happened."

For a few moments it was totally silent, and then the voice said, "You failed me. You and your sister."

"But it was not my fault." Arthur implored. "Am I to be blamed for dis?"

"You failed in your efforts. Besides...I have another charge in mind."

"Please, grant me another opportunity!" He grieved. "Please, do not pass me by!"

"And just why should I do such a thing? Especially after I made you a god?"

Arthur sat and pondered for something rational to say that would hopefully appease his master. "I...I shall not fail thee again."

have been eliminated. I made you far more. I made you in my image, and you failed

your favorite son, another chance." He pleaded. "I am worthy. I have served thee for years. I have delivered to thee all dat you

never gave me that

send me back to her home,

homeland." The voice cut

entire body grew limp, like he had just lost all semblance of hope. The man

to

Arthur urgently replied, "Anyting, my lord! I am and always have been your beloved servant! I shall dispatch of both

now; he shall see his fate soon. Will you fail me

shall never fail my master again! I am worthy! More dan

"I want her to suffer

minutes of waiting the man's body grew listless once more before the

collar and yanked him out of what appeared to be a cell before dragging

pair of torn blue jeans with

wild, grey hair and matching full beard made him look as if he were in his mid to late seventies, while his

matching knit hat, wrapped a pair of handcuffs around Arthur's wrists before standing him perfectly still in front of a shut door. For the first time in years Arthur was cold. His beard was waving to and fro in the salty air. He could hardly keep from shaking on the deck of the ship. Every so often he would glance over at his captor who proceeded

white captain and a larger white man right behind him. They both came out of the room with studious stares on their faces as if they were ready to tear Arthur apart. But it was the captain who

him?" Captain Howell pointed

"Yes, sir," the burly man

asking him, "So tell

for a second or two, Arthur replied, "I seek to go back to Jamaica,

The captain said out loud. "Buddy,

"I am a political refugee from de

kicked the back

and attempted to eat three of my crewmen; three good

the captain, Arthur gasped, "But I

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