My Life as a Slave
Eamonn Barry, Group 2: Fiction, German Swiss International School
y name is Zhang Zhou and I have worked twenty years on the Great Wall. Originally I was a
humble farmer in the kingdom of Qi. I was thirty-one when that horrific Emperor Qin Shi Huang
Di captured me. Here is the story of my life as a slave.
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It was harvest season and I was just going into my shed to get my sickle. However I was
bed by the sound of screaming and horse hooves nearby. This alerted me and I knew I had to
t fast; my instincts took over and I grabbed my sickle and ran outside. As I ran out of my tool
shed I was ever so alarmed, wondering what this could mean. Was there a fight? Was there an invasion? I put
those thoughts aside and concentrated on looking around. I saw Qin soldiers in the distance attacking our
village, where people were trying to fight back, and being killed. I just stood there in shock, wondering if what
was in front of me was real or a nightmare. I saw a woman with her head cut clean off, and was filled with
terror.
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I stared at the women blank minded. It took me a couple of moments to realize what was going on. A war!
This very thought made me want to shrivel up. I knew I had to do what was right; to fight; to protect all the
innocent people from these brutal, stone-hearted warriors. I figured a sickle was not going to save the day, so I
got out the sharpest most durable axe I owned. This axe was the one I used to cut down some of the strongest
trees. Now I was ready to fight a war. I charged out with ever so much hope; I felt I could take the whole army
down. Unfortunately when I came out, I was too late. Dead people surrounded me, with arrows and spears in
their bodies.
Suddenly however, I had the slight feeling of being watched. Before I could turn around, I felt a crossbow
at my neck and a very stern voice saying, “Drop your weapon and slowly turn around.” Unless I wanted to be
dead, I had to do what this voice told me. As I turned, I saw a Qin warrior; he was very young to be a fighter,
and looked about the age of twenty. Another Qin soldier came around the corner with a disgusting smile on his
face, and said “Great work Li! And we know exactly what to do with you, my Qi farmer friend.” His smile grew
bigger and he started to giggle in unison with the other warrior.
I was put into iron chains and struggled to break out, but it was no use, for I had been shackled in an endless
line of innocent people from our village just like me. They marched us for days, without any food and very little
water. After what felt like forever, we arrived at a filthy work camp for slaves. I saw thousands of ragged and
dirty people working in the filth under the watchful eyes of the Qin soldiers. I saw one person trying to escape,
but within seconds he was shot down by an arrow in the back. I knew I was going to hate life here.
The first night was awful. The only thing we got fed was a thin soup made out of the soldiers’ leftovers. We
were so hungry that if we were lucky enough, there would be a rat to eat or some sort of insect. The next
morning we started working on Emperor Qin’s wall to guard against invasions by the barbarians from the north.
Common people and soldiers also helped us to build the Great Wall, but they were treated much better than us.
Our main job was to carry the huge amounts of material needed for the wall, which was actually mostly
filling. We used all kinds of transportation like wheelbarrows, donkeys, and shoulder poles. The worst part was
carrying the rocks by hand. Sometimes we stood in a line and passed the rocks which was much easier; we all
tried to co-operate very much because we just wanted to get the job done. When we were in the mountains we
used rocks and stones to build the wall. Bricks were made on the spot from kilns, so we also needed to carry lots
of wood for the kiln fires. On the flat country plains, the wall was sometimes just made of earth. We had to work
in extreme weather, such as bitter cold and boiling heat.
Because of the harsh conditions, terrible food, disease, beatings, injuries and exhaustion, one by one we
started dying. First to go was my old friend Zhu De, who never liked hard work anyway. He tried to escape and
was quickly killed. Most of the other slaves like me died from an outbreak of plague, and many others of
starvation or sheer exhaustion.
I am now the last one of my former village friends. I have tried to bond with other people but they don’t
seem very sociable. When I came here I was a strong young man; now I am weak and feeble and can barely
pick up ten bricks. I think my time is near.
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