An Idol for Life

Author: Me!

THIS IS NOT A REAL STORY, BUT DOES REFER TO THE TIMES OF SLAVERY

An Idol for Life

My name is Chakandra Wuafrin, and I was a slave, but I suffered more then that.

I was lost... my whole life, that is. What's wrong with being lost? You don't understand what I've been though, especially when you don't know the true meaning of being "Lost". I was a terrible person. Not knowing if I had my own soul, or even a conscience. I wasn't walking a straight road. I was walking a very steep road.

It all started with just being a lowly servent. Not really having a life of my own, only serving others with my own time, making sure they live the good life that they have. Why wasn't I like that? I don't know.

I was doing the same routine everyday. Getting up early in the morning, making breakfast for my mistress, doing her laundry, ironing her clothes, following her everywhere, making her lunch, supper, dinner, and making sure she goes to sleep before I ever did.

My mistress was a saint herself, unlike her parents. She was so kind, and gentle. She was the only person in the world that had cared for me. I was only servant, but she had treated as a person. A real person.

I did this for the next 23 years of my life, seeing my mistress grow into a fine young lady. Me? I was only a servant... a nobody. I was treated like a nobody, talked to like a nobody, and punished like a nobody.

That was until I made a change. My mistress, without knowing, for my 25th year of working for her, she gave me a certificate of freedom. She said that I had deserved it, being punished in her place when something wrong happened to her. Her mother and father always blamed me. They beat me to the ground everything time she got in trouble, anywhere, mostly in public so those "little children" could laugh at me and throw rocks and rotten pieces of food.

NOTE: The little children refers to the adults.

Two weeks after my freedom, my mistress had died from sickness. I blamed myself for her death, and so did her parents. They put me on trial, saying that I threatened her to give me a certificate of freedom, then killed her off anyways. I was framed guilty as charged. My punishment? Death. That was when my mistress' brother showed his parents the will of their daughter.

After that day, I was freed from my punishment, and I was given a house deed, and her fortune. That was her will, a letter that proved that she wanted me to have all she had owned. That was twice that my mistress had saved my life. Once as a child, once as an adult.

Thank you.

My rating (yay!):

Before you read my rating, know that I use different scales in order to have a global rating out of 100 that takes in consideration all important parts more than the others.

Script: 12/15 — Good to see you go back to slavery time and that it's not "Another story about Warcraft" or something like that.

Imagination: 1/10 — Just use your imagination!!!

Descriptions: 5/20 — Too quick descriptions, make them longer.

Writing skill: 2/10 — You have some skill, but you don't have a personnal style. Get one!!

Action: 8/15 — At least there is some action. But it goes at a gruesome pace... SLOW DOWN!

Humor: 10/20 — I don't want to penalize you for this

Transposition of the author: 0/10 — You're not INSIDE your story. I can't see any human feelings when I read this.


Global rating: 38/100 - Completely rewrite this. The idea is good, but everything goes too fast, without any skill. Try to read loud your text, make other people read it before you post it. Excuse me if my rating is harsh, but I'm only being fair, you can't just throw an ersatz of a story in this forum, seriously work it more.