This is a guest story written by my amazingly awesome mom.
Wrath was consuming me and hope was not even a distant memory. I was on my fourteenth hour straight working in the diamond mine. I was only nine. I was sore and tired, so hungry, and it would be hours until dawn when my shift would finally end. My arms ached; sweat poured down my back; I was numb with exhaustion.
I wondered if the person whose fingers the diamond would grace knew that my entire village had been enslaved to decorate her. I wondered if she even cared.
With dogged determination, I chiseled into rock, my hands covered with blood and blisters. Something sparkled. It was a small diamond, yet even uncut and unpolished I could see how magnificent it was.
Staring into the sparkling stone, I felt a shift in my very spirit. The fury faded and a deep love consumed me. I breathed slowly. The diamond seemed to come alive, a kaleidoscope of moving colors swirling faster and faster. My spirit soared! My bloody hands were transformed into wings! With great joy, I spread my arms and flew up and out of the mine. I soared; I was a bird. No, I was much too large to be any bird. I soared far above the mines over a field of flowers, to a river. I swooped down, grabbing a fish to quiet my growling stomach. I whooped with joy, and a stream of fire escaped my lips. I was no bird. I was a magnificent dragon, strong and powerful.
I wanted to fly forever away from my life. Yet my family and friends were still in the mines, still forced to work like slaves for a pittance so small they could barely survive. I roared fire for hundreds of yards. No more. I wheeled around. Back towards the mines. My rage and determination as focused as a laser.
No more of this nightmare, for any of us. No more.