Buried Alive (for miracle)

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eration. I pleaded with him to show compassion, to spare us from further suffering. I even told him that we would have left the village already, but our car was stolen, and I begged him to ask the guards to h

eyes streaming with tears, and saw only a hard, unyielding face staring back at me. I realized that we were at the mercy of a man who saw us as nothing more than a threat to his power, and that

nd your family leave this village. You can do so by either trekking or even flying for all I care" he continued, his words dripping with sarcasm and contempt. The

words were not just an idle threat, but a promise of impending doom. "If by this time tomorrow you're still seen anywhere around this village, I will bury you

led to escape. I knew that we had to act fast, to find a way out of the village before the king's patience ran out. But for now

resigned, as if he had accepted the king's cruel fate for us. But his words spark

n my hips, my body tense with frustration. "How can you say that?" I demanded, my words pouring out in a torrent of emotion. "How can you just give up like

imal that had suddenly broken free from its chains. But I didn't care, I was beyond caring, my heart racing with fear and adrenaline, m

d, his eyes narrowing in contempt. "This your overconfidence and trust in this your God, may it not put you and your entire fa

t. He was a picture of calm, a rock of faith, unshaken by the king's intimidation. His smile, gentle and peaceful, seem

as 5 or 6 am tomorrow morning, we are out of here" I added, my sobs echoing through the throne room, my body trembling with anxiety. I knew we had to escape, and fast, befor

ve, as he picked up his hand fan and began to fan himself, his movements languid and graceful. The gestur

ated, unsure if we were truly free to leave. The king's expression was unreadable, his face

he gesture was imperious, the authority behind it unmistakable, and I knew we had to obey, to flee the throne room before the king's mood shifted once more.

g position with a force that brooked no resistance. But even as he rose to his feet, he seemed reluctant to surrender to my grasp, hi

accusation that seemed to hang in the air like a challenge. "Our well-being does not even matter to you a bit!" I raged on, my tears streaming down my face like a river of pain and frustration. "I kno

d fear boiling over into a frenzy of recrimination and despair. I knew that we were running out of time, that the king's patience was wearing thin, and that we had to escape, bef

he King said, his voice firm and dismissive, his eyes cold and unyielding. "But where you will incur my wrath is if you and your children fai

mbling out in a desperate bid to appease the king. I even rubbed my palms together, a gesture of supplication, hoping against hope that

ds moved swiftly to obey, their hands grasping our arms, pulling us away from the king's presence, away from the throne room, and out into the unknown. I struggled and

. My tears flowed profusely as I walked hastily ahead of my husband, my feet carrying me rapidly away from the king's

. I was too hurt, too angry, and too scared to speak to him. He pleaded with me, his voice soft and c

hen she fell behind, her small legs struggling to keep up with my frantic pace. My husband tried t

ying to reach out, to apologize and make amends, but I was too raw, too wounded, to listen. All I could t

hastily packing our clothes and essentials into bags and suitcases. My husband stood by, watching me with a mixture

daughter responded. She emerged from the house, looking around uncertainly, her eyes wide with fear and

he replied, looking down at himself, his gesture a stark reminder of the brutal treatment he had endured at the king's hands.

. But my heart was heavy with sorrow, my mind racing with thoughts of uncertainty and fear. What lay ahead? Would we find safety? Would we ever be able to r

, my words a desperate plea to escape the danger that lurked outside. But my husband just st

he knew something I didn't. "Besides, how do you intend to do that without a car? So you want to leave me be

aith in the face of uncertainty. "And as for that question, if we want to leave you behind, yes, we will!" I hissed, my

by a mask of resignation, and he nodded slowly. "I understand," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I

pierce my armor of anger and hurt. But I immediately raised a hand in the air, shutting my e

all Sammy for me, let's leave here," I said, my eyes locked on hers, my gaze intense and serious. I

or the palace," she said, her voice matter-of-fact, her words a stark reminder of the reality we faced. I felt a pa

now," I said, my voice firm and resolute, my words a call to action in the face of uncertainty. And with that, I t

n, my mind racing with thoughts of Sammy's whereabouts. That was how my son again wen

hes, and the fields, calling out his name, but there was no response. The only reaction we got was from the villagers, who would start to laugh when

r minds drained. Around 8 pm, same day, we all left for the palace, determined to inform the king about the new developm

ords a challenge to the king and his people. "And they'll have to kill me first," I added, my voice a fierce whisper, my heart a heavy burden of love an

alace, to disturb everyone's peace, including that of the King, to make them feel the weight of my worry and concern for my missing son. But my husband,

safety and well-being. As we left the palace, I couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat, of powerlessness,

edictability of life, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, hope can be found. But for now

around, my feet carrying me back and forth across the room like a restless spirit, my heart heavy with worry and fear. My husband, on t

eaded straight to the palace, our footsteps echoing through the quiet streets, our hearts fixed on our mission. We s

power dynamics at play. But we refused, our determination and desperation fueling our courage. And so, my husband started preaching and praying at the top of his voice, right there in the palace, his words a fiery declaration

th fury. "Guards..." He called at the top of his voice, his hand raised, his finger pointing at us like a dagger. "Take the

cing and cold. The guards moved swiftly, their faces expressionless, their hands grasping for us like claws. We stood firm, our he

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