Lasem, Central Java, Indonesia
The spirit of freedom from oppression descended upon me that morning as I was gazing through the gates of Lasem; filling the empty voids of my bones.
There they were; shadows moving in the cover of darkness, hearts racing as they were approaching the river from a creek just under the nose of the Dutch soldiers.
Inside the Chinese taipan’s house, a family was gathering in the living room and debating on how to smuggle their precious goods to the harbor. Opium was the currency during the battle.
“Someone has to die tonight,” the taipan commanded
So they put the cargo into a casket and lowered it down to the river through the hole hidden in the kitchen. A shadow soon followed. Before he disappeared to the hole, he looked up to see the taipan one last time. He knew that he would never set foot in that house again.
“Go, my son. Be steadfast in your fight. Should it be destined for us to cross paths, we shall see you again.”
And the taipan’s wife let out a loud and chilling scream of agony.
Other takes on this week’s challenge can be found here.