• My name is Aera, and I am a daughter of an Egyptian and one of his slaves, at the age of seven. The plagues the God of Abraham sent upon Egypt were the things that put fear into my heart, and took all of my family away.
    The first day the infamous Moses came, my mother was giving birth to a son. She was in labor for fourteen hours, but with no water for her to drink, she and the baby died. I cried for the other six days. Then my father, who had no part with me or my older brother Malak, finally acknowledged us as his children. That God of Isaac gave us freedom, for the price of our mother.
    My father said, on the fifth day of no water, “Pharaoh will see that there is true justice for those in his kingdom.” I believed him in my young age, that the gods would uplift my mother with Pharaoh's help, and I stopped crying.
    After the seven days, I awoke with frogs in my bed, and the screams of those who did the same. There were so many, and even with my help, the slaves couldn't get them out of the house. The smell of Egypt just got worse, from the rotting fish of the Nile, and now the slimy frogs Moses had cursed on us.
    I grew angry, wanting to go to this man so I could hurt him as much as he had hurt my family, but Malak calmed me, and I continued helping the slaves round up the frogs.
    After a while of chasing them, all of them suddenly dropped dead, and we prayed to our gods to help with this Moses who had sent these curses upon us. It was easier now to round up the frogs. Pharaoh's magicians had already shown how this man was a fake. I wondered to myself how much longer Pharaoh would stand this man.
    The gnats came the next day, and my father let everyone stay inside. You couldn't even open the door without them coming in. The slaves were ordered to clean our house while Malak and I stayed in his room and played together.
    I was surprised that this time, the magicians could not produce the same thing as Moses. They had challenged him many times before, it was abnormal that they couldn't match his tricks now. But never the less, Pharaoh stayed strong in his position, and did not let the Hebrews go.
    The next day, father was furious at the picture of our livestock cut in half. The cows, the sheep, all plopped over for no reason. I shrunk at my father's screeches at our slaves, of whom I knew, and the whippings of those who were not “careful enough.” The Hebrews still had their flocks, apparently because of their god. I prayed to our gods once more, and to Pharaoh, to not take any more from this fake, and kill him already. Malak joined me.
    On the day of the sixth plague, father was in Pharaoh's court to ask for something, I don't remember, but he returned with disgusting boils on his face. Apparently, Moses and his brother had blown poisoned soot into the Pharaoh's court room, and held no remorse for anyone that was in there. The Pharaoh also got sick, and so the magicians also. I held onto my father more tightly than ever before. If he was gone, what would Malak and I do?
    I didn't even bother to get out of bed when I first saw the hail, because the slaves would not let me outside to play. The thunder drove me to Malak's room, because the slaves would not let me into father's room either. He quieted me down every time the thunder roared evilly, the voice of the God of Jacob. Where was Pharaoh? Where was Ra, my god? When everything went away, I realized only the flax and barley were left. Father would have been furious, if he knew, but no one told him because the boils were getting worse.
    Locusts barged their way into the house, even through the shut doors and closed windows. Malak and I made a game to help, whomever squished the most locusts, won someone else's dinner. Half of our livestock had died, and half of our grain was wiped out, what we could find, we could barely live on. Moses was the item that was making the darkness in my heart grow bigger at such a young age.
    I must have slept in, because I felt unusually rested but groggy, only to find myself not able to see anything. I called out, and Malak called back, but I couldn't move. I had grown blind and limp. Three days I did not move from my bed, unable to hold my seven year old bladder. The only thing I could do was cry, because I felt so lonely, and so scared. Why were the gods forsaking us? Me? Did I do something wrong? Did I say something?
    When I could see again, and walk, I went to Malak, and held him tight. I never wanted to be alone again. We were finally allowed into Father's room, but he had died during the three days without water or care. I only saw boils before they covered him up with the same white sheet they had covered my mother with. Malak cried with me this time, but now he was the head of the house.
    In the night, he and I slept in the same bed because we were both terribly lonely. We did not want to be left alone, so we let the slaves take a place in the house to sleep. When I awoke, I didn't realize what had happened at first. I pulled his hand to wake him up, but he didn't move, and felt ice cold. I screamed, and that's all I can remember.
    When I was awake again, a slave told me the Pharaoh had finally let the Hebrews go. I was so enraged, I went to the palace myself and burst into the court room. “What are you thinking, Pharaoh!?” I cried out, walking past everyone and running past the useless guards. “Kill them, Pharaoh! Kill them for what they've done to us!!! Moses should not be free for murder! If you let them go, you're just letting all of them get away!!!” I felt the tears pour down my face in waterfalls, but I stayed firm. The whole room quieted, and Pharaoh stood. “Assemble the army... Our slaves are escaping...”
    And on the day the Hebrews got away, I cursed the God of Abraham, and lived in the palace as one of Pharaoh's advisers.