My Mother Died Three Years Ago—But Every Night She Appeared in My Dreams Begging Me to Find Her in a Forgotten Village Called Medanna… Then I Discovered the Truth

Chapter 6

I could not go closer, because I was a stranger there. So we watched from far off, and I saw my mother washing clothes. It was obvious she was their maid.

Through the gaps in the fence, under a bright security light, I saw her. My mother. She looked so old, her hair untidy, bending over a massive plastic basin filled with dirty clothes. She scrubbed with weak, trembling hands, wiping sweat and tears from her face every few minutes. My heart broke into pieces. The dreams were real. She was not dead. She was a prisoner.

Tears of hot anger rolled down my cheeks. I turned to Baba, my voice shaking with rage. “Baba, I don’t understand. Why are they doing this to her? There are many people in this village. Why can’t the king hire workers from his own people?”

He sighed heavily, his face filled with shame for his own village. “It is our ancient tradition, my son. The gods of Medanna forbid us from making slaves of our own blood. If a king maltreats an indigene, a heavy curse falls on the land. So the ruler sends his agents to the big cities instead. They promise poor women and young girls good jobs. Once they trap them here, they take their phones, lock them up, and use them for evil work until they die.”

“This is pure wickedness,” I whispered, clenching my fists.

I could not stand there and watch my mother suffer another day. Three years of torture was already too much.

“Sir, what can I do to rescue my mother?” I begged. “Tell me what to do. I will do anything.”

“If you can poison the king, all the maids and slaves are usually freed to go back to their homes, until a new king is brought in, and another set of slaves entirely is lured.”

“Poison the king?” I gasped. “But Baba, how can I even get close to his food or his cup? The palace is tightly guarded.”

“It is the only way, Joshua,” Baba said seriously. “According to our custom, when a king dies suddenly, the palace doors are thrown open for cleansing. All foreign workers are released instantly, to avoid offending the gods during the burial. But getting inside is almost impossible for a stranger.”

A dangerous idea began forming in my mind. If I remained outside, I would never save her. I needed to blend in. I needed to become part of the very system that held her captive.

“I must work as a palace guard, or in any position at all,” I said. “That’s my decision.”

I gathered my boldness and walked to the palace, with one thing on my mind — to liberate my mother from slavery.

As I reached the giant iron gate, four heavily armed guards jumped out from the security post. They held their guns and cutlasses tightly, glaring at me with rough, angry faces.

“Stop there!” the chief guard shouted. “Who are you? Where are you going? What is your mission in the royal palace of Medanna?”

After much interrogation, they realized I was not an indigene. Of course they would know, since I told them I wanted to work as a cook or a security guard.

They dragged me into a small stone room for serious questioning. “Where is your village? Mention the names of your family elders.”

“I don’t have any family here, sir,” I answered, my voice calm but shaking underneath. “I am from the city. I came to look for a job. I would like to work as a cook or security guard inside this palace. I can do any hard work you give me.”

The guards looked at each other in total shock. They had never seen anyone volunteer to be a “slave” before.

“Are you normal at all, boy?” the chief guard asked, touching my forehead to check for fever. “People run away from this palace, but you are walking in on your own two legs to volunteer?”

“Yes, sir,” I lied. “Life is too hard in the city. I just want a place to sleep and food to eat. I will serve the king faithfully.”

The chief guard smiled a wicked, dark smile. He went to inform the palace chiefs, and after some minutes came back with a black security uniform and a heavy wooden baton.

They assigned me to be their security.

Before he handed me the uniform, the chief guard gripped my shirt collar tightly and pulled my face close. “If you try anything funny, I have legions that will finish you and your generation,” he warned, eyes full of fire.

“I understand, sir,” I nodded. “No trouble at all.”

I started work immediately.