Totem

I remember when I was a newly made totem pole. My colors were as bright as the big blue sky. North America was where I was made. I remember seeing people dancing to a drum beat around me. I loved hearing the laughing and chatting. Everything was at its best and just perfect. But the memories still haunt me.
 I felt the blazing sun rays hit my skin as my friends ate. I saw a beautiful humming bird fly around me as I thought how lucky I was. The bees were buzzing and birds were hovering through the air. Suddenly the tribal elder stood up, but he had a strange look on his face. Almost a look of horror. Suddenly I heard a shriek. I looked down, a puddle of blood surrounded me. The bloody flesh of the tribal leader was scattered everywhere, leaving his dead body to rot on the muddy ground. Children cried as they saw the tribal leader’s head look into their souls. Gun shots were fired as panic was struck into my friends’ eyes. Slowly the murderers emerged from the trees with creepy smiles on their faces; a smile of insanity. 
In a quick blink, the killers were gone. Soon after, guts were spilled onto the now blood-stained grass. Lungs were worn as medals, dried up eyes were taken home and worn as earrings. A scream echoed through the woods as a bullet was stuck in my best friend’s neck. He was still alive. Twitching on the floor, helpless, until an enemy shot him dead. A pair of bloody eyes rolled across the floor next to my crumbling feet. Blood started to pour out of a woman’s neck like a flowing waterfall. A smoky metallic smell filled the air as corpses were left on the ground. Still. Dead.

            Many years later, the joyful thing I was, no longer felt happiness. And just like my beautiful colors, my humor had seemed to have faded. The only thing I thought about was the memory. All I thought of was how I could and would not help my screaming friends. I just watched. All the good memories that I had, just vanished. I was a boring object, unnoticed.

            Then something strange happened. Hundreds of years later, I felt something grab me. I felt like a metal arm. Fear flowed through my veins as I was lifted into the grey sky. I tried to look around. All I saw were people. People who looked like my friends. Then at that moment, fear was replaced with excitement. I knew an adventure was about to come.

            The metal arm carried me onto a boat. I had no idea where I was going or what was going to happen. But I knew that I was finally ready for what was going to come. There was a huge noise and before I knew it, we were moving.

            Life on the boat was wonderful. People came to see me everyday and they used to talk about me, saying I was a gold mine, a star, but when they left I felt lonely. Finally we got to the shore in a place called the UK. I was put into a huge lorry and driven to a place called Oxford.

            So, here I am. In the Pit Rivers Museum. You may thing it is fun having people look at you and gasp at your ‘beauty’. No. Nothing beats the sweet smelling air of home. Nothing does, it never will. I have no friends here. Everyone is the same, lost and lonely. All stuck in the same boring place. But, at least, everyone has their own memories to tell.     

by Amelia Withers