Emma stared at the little notepad in her hand and sighed. “Well, Cleopatra, here’s the deal: I’m actually from the future-so stuff you do will be different from the stuff I do. Do you kinda understand that?”
Cleopatra stared at Emma and shook her head no.
“Ok. That’s fine. It doesn’t really matter. As long as you know I’m not crazy, or trying to hurt you.” Emma pulled a pocket knife out of her pocket. “This has never come close to slicing anybody.”
Cleopatra kept a worried smile on her face, while she fumbled behind her back. She gripped a thin cord and then began frantically tugging on it. “Guards!” she yelled.
Emma jumped to her feet. “No!! Queen Cleopatra, please! It’s for chopping food, not people!” But Cleopatra didn’t listen. Guards streamed out of the doors. One grabbed her arms, and pinned them behind her back. Another grabbed the pocket knife from her. “HELP!” screeched Emma.
Everything was getting worse, and worse, but the worst thing was that Cleopatra had left Emma. Probably forever. And Emma would never get an A+ if Cleopatra was gone.
You can’t die in a time period you weren’t born in, right? Emma thought to herself. She really hoped not.
A series of guards led Emma out of the castle and through the village. Emma had no idea where she was headed, but she knew it wasn’t to a feast.
The guards opened the gate to the city, and circled it to the back of the wall, where a bunch of people were tirelessly working.
Emma gulped. There were lots of men and women with bony, slender bodies. They wore thin rags and were making blocks of clay for building, sewing clothing, and sanding away rough surfaces. Off in the corner, Emma noticed a muscular man with a long, curling wip. A tanned women was in front of him, shaking with fear.
“Get to work, Slave!” he bellowed, as he snapped the wip over the young women’s back. The slave let out a scream.
Suddenly, Emma realized why she was here: to work as a slave. This is wrong! Emma thought with fury. This is so wrong!