Haunted By The
Truth
He lay in the
stiff bed, tossing and turning violently. Beads of sweat began to run down the
young, smart man's forehead and he began to moan and grunt as if wishing
something to go. His grey uniform lay on the old wooden chair to the side of
the bed, neatly folded and ironed, ready for tomorrow's work. Chilling figures
entered his troubled dreams and took over his mind, taking him to the place he
knew so well.
He found
himself in a gloomy camp where a fog hung heavily in the air and despair spread
throughout the crowds. His trembling body was frozen as he stared in horror at
the sights surrounding him. He saw young children, not fully understanding the
truth and parents weeping for fear of their lives. He saw bodies, piled up
high, their eyes empty and their souls lost. He was mortified. He saw the
people he was taught to hate look at him as one of their own. For the first
time, he noticed these people were not so different. Why should they be made to
suffer like this when he had all the luxuries he could want? Who decided these
people should be branded with a barcode just because they believe in the star?
A soldier marched through the camp and everyone froze. He recognized the
soldier and started to shout.
"Sergeant, it's
me, your friend. This is a mistake, I'm not supposed to be here. Please, help
me!"
BANG!
He fell to the
damp floor with a thud, and, when he awoke again, he was in a place where the
sun shone over millions of gravestones, illuminating them. A mourning mother
stood, dressed in black, looking down at a small gravestone. A lump began to
form in his throat like someone had rammed a large ball down it. The stone
gravestones were like the empty, cold eyes he had seen earlier. Was this the
future? All of a sudden, he found himself in a swirling vortex of vivid
light.
His eyes shot
open, and he sat up, rigid and stiff. The hands on the old clock struck 7
o'clock am and he slumped out of bed for a very different day.
Freedom.
By Zoe
Screti (Aged 12 years) |
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