This story was inspired by the reports of death camps in North Korea and other areas of the world. Children are born, and raised in these Camps, and grow up knowing nothing of life beyond their barbed wire barrier. While this story is not set in any particular place, it is written for the downtrodden children of the world, past, present, and future.
The Camp
The girl
whose name meant love often walked the perimeter of the Fence, as she was small
and no one paid her much mind. The Fence was twice as high as any of the Buildings,
and it was topped with glittering barbed wire. From time to time, a cricket or
a frog would hop through the tiny holes in the Fence and enter the Camp, but
mostly only the wind travelled through. It was at the edge of the world. At the edge
of the world, Grandmother always said, one could not expect many visitors.
It took the
time from one whistle to another to make the trip around the Camp, and it would
be quicker if she did not dawdle. Today, there were no crickets to catch, and
it was not the season for frogs, the air was too dry, and dirt blew in on the
wind. Even so, there was little reason for her to hurry. She was not expected
to line up at each whistle with Grandmother and the other women who lived in
the Camp. She was still too young to be of any use. The Guards hardly noticed
her, except at mealtime to give her a bowl, or at the time of year the Doctor
visited. But that was just before the frost came, still a long time off, and evening
mealtime wouldn’t be until the sun had nearly set. On a dry day, with the sun
hanging high in the sky, there would be no use for a little girl in the Camp.
The girl
scuffed her feet along the dirt path that was worn around the inside of the
Fence. The dusty soil puffed up between her toes in little clouds, and her feet
were as brown as the Buildings. This time of year, everything was brown, and
nearly everything was dead. The Buildings were all the same, a bit taller than
the tallest Guard, and very long. They were laid out along the Fence, about
three yards away from it. Tufts of dry, brown grass, short and scrubby, grew
between them. Each Building had four large windows along its length. The
windows only faced inside, towards the center of the Camp, and as the girl
walked the perimeter, she felt very much alone, which is how she preferred to
be when Grandmother was working.
Every
morning, before the sun rose, the first whistle would blow, and her Grandmother
would take her outside the Building they lived in, and they would stand,
straight and proud, alongside the other women who lived in the same Building.
Then, the Guards would come and take a look at them, and Grandmother said it
was important to be respectful and clean, and stand very still, and look
straight forward. This was how you showed your respect, she said. People with
respect weren’t hassled. People with respect got their morning mealtime and a
new gown when their old one wore out. People with respect would go the Heaven
one day, and never have to see the Camp again.
After the
morning mealtime was over, and everyone had eaten their allotted food, her Grandmother
and the other older women would line up and march together to the longest
Building along the Fence, to sew gowns, and the older girls and younger women
would march in a separate line to the garden, also in the center of the Camp.
When she was a bit older, she would join them in the garden, but for now, she
was left on her own each day, and could do what she chose, as long as she
didn’t bother the Guards or the women that worked. She was the youngest girl in
the Camp, and preferred to spend her days alone.
The girl
stood at the Fence, and pressed her face against it, feeling the cool metal of
the links press into her skin. She looked outward, to the end of the world,
where the grass grew tall and the sky went onward, forever.
“What is
Heaven like?” she had asked her grandmother, after the evening mealtime the day
before, like she always did.
“Heaven is
like the land outside of the Fence.” Her grandmother told her, “Wide open,
going on forever and ever, as far as the eye can see. The grass grows green and
tall, and fruit grows on trees, and water runs in silver springs.”
“What is
fruit?” she always asked next, looking at her Grandmother’s weathered face with
eager, smiling eyes.
“Fruit is
sweet and good, it makes you feel more alive just to take one bite of it.” Her
Grandmother always answered, and sometimes her eyes would water and a tear
would run down the creases of her face.
“We will eat
fruit like we eat food at mealtime?”
“Yes. But we
will eat it anytime that we want to in Heaven, mealtime or not.” It always
seemed strange for the girl to think about eating whenever she wanted to, and
try as she might, she could never understand what the fruit would be like. It
was quite different, she knew, from the grey, clotted food she always ate at
the Camp. It was like magic, something that you couldn’t see, but was with you
anyway. Like love.
“And we will
drink the silver water?” she prodded her Grandmother, who was starting to doze
off.
Her
Grandmother nodded. “Yes, shiny, silver water. Shiny like the badges the Guards
wear, shiny like the reflection of the sunlight on the roofs of the Buildings.”
“How do you
know about this, Grandmother?” the girl asked. She knew how, but it always made
her Grandmother smile to tell her, and so she always asked.
“Because I
have been there, my love. I was there, long before you were born, long before
this Camp was built. That was a time where everyone lived on the outside, free
like the wind and the birds and the sky.” Another tear streaked a path across
the old woman’s face, and her granddaughter touched it. It stuck to the end of
her finger and sparkled, like the silver springs in Heaven.
“Long ago,”
she had echoed, “Long before this Camp was built.” It was such a strange
concept, thinking of a time before the Camp. She had always lived here, and her
mother had lived here before she went to Heaven. Where would people sleep, she
wondered, if they had no Building to go to? Where would people work, if there
was no garden to plant, or no gowns to sew? Without work, she knew, there could
be no food. The Guards always said that, and everyone knew that it was true.
Then, she remembered the fruit. They wouldn’t need food. They could pick the
fruit and eat that instead.
“I love you,
Grandmother.” She had said then, seeing that she was tired, and should be left
to sleep. Work always made her tired, and one day, when the girl was old
enough, she would be able to work, and would be very tired too. This was a good
thing, she knew, because the more tired you got, the closer you were to
leaving.
“I love you,
too.” Her Grandmother told her. She cuddled her granddaughter to her body on
their cot. That was love, the girl knew. Love was what kept them warm at night
under the blanket, and love was what kept them together. Even when her
Grandmother went off to Heaven one day, love would keep them connected until
they could be together again. Love was magic, something you couldn’t see, but
was with you anyway.
That
morning, when she woke up, her Grandmother was already out of the cot. She was
not in the Building either, and the girl had lined up without her, among the
other women, standing proud and tall and still. She didn’t have to ask where
she was, asking was not respectful. There was only one place that her
Grandmother could be, if she was not there, lined up with the others when the
first whistle blew.
The little
girl pressed her face harder against the Fence, and ground her feet into the
dirt. She looked out past the Fence, and tried to picture Heaven. How far away
was it? How many whistles would blow before she reached it, if she tried to
walk there? She couldn’t walk there, she knew. That wouldn’t be respectful, and
then she would never be able to find Heaven, and would never see her
Grandmother again. The Fence went underground as deep as it was high, and the
very top was magic, and would burn anyone who tried to touch it.
The girl
whose name meant love looked upward, tilting her head back as far as she could,
looking at the very top of the Fence. It shone silver in the sunlight. She
squinted, and her eyes began to water from the brightness. She touched a tear,
and held it out, on the tip of her finger. “I love you, Grandmother,” She
whispered. There was no sound, and the winds came, slow and dry, and her
teardrop was blown away. The little girl smiled. That was love, she knew, that
was magic, and one day, if she worked hard enough, she would be able to go to
Heaven, too.
Copyright 2012, Billijean E. Martiello
Theft of this Work will be Prosecuted to the Fullest Extent of the Law
