They call it...Swamp Sickness. A vile disorder, brought on by the landscape and Swamp Folk. They say it takes yer mind, before it takes your body. It makes ya angry, makes ya stronger, blocks your thoughts, makes ya different than the person you were. Turns even the humblest man into a crazed killer. I've seen many a man taken by the sickness, and only half of them lived to tell about it.
It was storming out, a fitting element to company the scene of a man being beaten. Smugglers were the aggressors, and a Smuggler was the victim. Who was this man, who was being bruised and beaten? That man was me, before the unpleasantness that engulfed my being, became my soul, and fueled my anger. These men who were doing this, I considered my family, not having a real one, of course. This was punishment in Point Lookout to Smugglers, the creed always ended in death, they didn't take in account of who you were, or what you did. All they cared about was themselves, which was why I took interest in them in the first place. I needed a place to be, in an unforgiving place like this, a man has to do what is necessary to survive, right?
A man, older than the others, told them to back away, which to that, they complied. He told me to get up, or, in his exact words "Arise".
So, not wanting another beating, I agreed. I was a hassle standing, the pain in my muscles had me struggling. As I stood, I was taller than them, by at least six inches. The older man whispered something in one of their ears, and at that moment, they began to tie me loosely in rope. Loose it was, I still could breakout of it. The older man began to talk, telling me my fate.
"Joesph Cole, you have been charged with theft from the Smugglers, for this crime, you will be killed." is what he told me.
"Theft is not tolerated here, and no man may bypass this rule-"
I interrupted "I did for a reason, I'm-I was going to move to the Commonwealth, begin a new life!"
As I said that, a man hit me with the butt of his rifle in my stomach, the older man continued.
"No matter the reason, it is not tolerated, under any circumstance." He replied.
"You are being killed today, so, what shall be your last words?" He asked.
I looked up, hair in my face, blood running down my mouth and chin, and told him:
"If I ever get out of these ropes, even if you push me over this ledge, I will kill all of you. The People I thought were my friends, and even worse, the people I considered my family. Trust me when I say this, you will be killed by my hand."
That was the last thing I told them, the men positioned me to the ledge, raised one leg, and kicked me over, I was surely dead.
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Tell me how I did.