A Call For Help

by SouthernGal7

Faces and people stood outside of their tents. I walked toward the village. I was honestly scared. I was not a member of this tribe and I was terrified of what would happen. These people asked me to come. I did not know why. They showed me around the tented village. Why was I here you ask? Well, I am a doctor and I only answered a call for help.

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It was normal day. I guess only for myself, Ezra Matthews. I was doing what I usually did. I was helping patients, and prescribing medicines to them. Four men entered my office. They looked like the men from the territories. I was scared at first. I did not know what they wanted.

"Help..." A voice whispered.

"Help? You want my help?" I asked.

The four men nodded.

"Our chief is dying...He needs help." One of the four replied. My eyes widen. I did not know what to do. What would my patients think? What would the town think? People would make fun of me.

"A man is dying! Ezra, what would you do if some one was dying?" I thought.

I sighed. These men needed my help. At least they came to me, that was some doing on their part. I nodded as we left to journey to the tented territory.

People sneered and whispered comments as I left. They thought I was crazy helping people who were rumored to be fierce killers.

Maybe I was, but everyone needs help.

When we finally got to the territory. I was humbled. Everyone it seemed from that tribe was outside of their tent.

"This chief must be important to you..." I thought.

They showed me to the chief's tent. I slowly walked in as I entered the tent.

There sat an older man groaning in pain. It looked like a rifle shot was embedded in his body.

"Water..." I muttered. This was why I was here. The chief had been shot.

I took a deep breath as I try to get the bullet out of the body. Hours flew by as I did the surgery. I tried and tried, it was no use, the chief was getting worse.

"Come on...Come on..." I whispered.

The chief kept groaning. I sighed. What if this man dies? What will these villagers do to me? What if I end up dying! These thoughts raged in my head as I tried to dig the bullet out.

I closed my eyes and sighed with relief. The chief was saved. I had gotten it out. I looked at the chief. He nodded with a thank you. He slowly and tiredly shook my hand. It seemed he was thankful for what I had done.

"Wado..." The chief replied with the word thank you.

"Gvlieliga..." I replied in the only word I knew from the village's language.

You're welcome.

I had never forgotten what I had learned from that experience. I learned that it did not what skin they are or language you spoke, but that you should answer a call for help from people. That you should not judge those who are different because you never know if those people might need you someday.