For a long time, I was a very poor man,
and for quite a while in those poverty ridden years, I was homeless. One night,
very heavy rains came pouring down and for refuge, I rushed into one of the empty
shipping containers in the dockyard where I had ducked into after hours of
wandering around.
Hours later, I woke up to rumbling
sounds and soon enough, it dawned on me that the container was moving.
I panicked.
It was dark and stuffy inside and I felt like
could not breathe. I began to pound on the sides of the steel cage but
weakened by my hungry state, I could not muster enough energy to pound loud enough.
After what felt like forever, the
movement stopped. I waited and once I heard sounds outside, I resumed my
frantic pounding. There was a commotion outside but it seemed the noise was moving
away from me instead of towards me. I began to scream hoarsely and pound with
everything in me. This must have gone on for quite a while but fortunately, it
ended before I lost my mind. The doors opened and there was a group of
bewildered people standing in front of it, peering inside. I slid to them and
when they saw me, some shouted out and began to hit a man cowering in the
corner.
Questions came at me and it took a
while to tell them that I was just a homeless man, seeking shelter from the
rain. It was after this that I realized the cowering man was the driver of the
trailer carrying the container. The small crowd had held on to him, suspicious
that he was trafficking me for bad reasons. The relieved man glared at me as he
walked past and people advised that I never
wander into an empty container ever again, especially on grounds like theirs
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