My shadows sob. My colors cry. Dreary grey. Tawny yellow, runs - from urine spatter. My crevices house cockroaches. My cracks harbor rats. I hold no paintings or mirrors or clocks. Time doesn’t run here, it melts. Dripping and fading from one moment into the next.
Random patches of blue, in places where paint remains. Look closer and you will see her fingernail scratches, over the mattress. She claws my paint. I cannot give her something to hold - when she digs. When she screams. All I offer is blue flakes beneath her fingernails.
Under the boarded window are long black streaks across and down, jagged edges of pealing plaster from the rocking cage. They locked Soriya therein, after the beating. She fought the metal bars, banging and pounding the door against me. Arching her back, she carried the weight of the cage from side to side smashing it here and there. When her tiny frame lost strength, she slept. The indentations marred her cheek. No tears came when she woke, just a hollow gaze into darkness. Soriya has survived many beatings, many days encaged - until she learned she mustn’t resist the clients.
Do you see the spike? There, in the corner, nailed into my depths. Today they are coming again to chain Soriya there, to the spike. They will bring the thread and the needle. The stench of blood will linger for days, long after the stitches are once again broken. They say the clients want virgins, and so she will be. Again and again. They will make her be whatever they want.
Afterward, when Soriya’s wails no longer echo, when the vibration of her mourning settles to whimpers, I will absorb it all. I will silence the sounds. When she is no longer able to stand, I will stand for her. I will hold her up when she’s weak, when she leans, when she falls. She will beat against my surface, blow after blow, when the rage and disgust in herself rises up. She thinks no one sees, no one cares, no one hears. She doesn’t know - this wall can talk. She doesn’t know that you have heard.
If walls could talk, this story is one which could be told. Although Soriya is a fictional character, she speaks for victims of sex trafficking all over the world who need your help. Some things in this world are so horrific, so disturbing, they make us feel hopeless and helpless. What can we do?
In the nineteenth chapter of Luke, verse forty, Jesus says, “If these become silent, the stones will cry out.” Jesus is talking to the hypocritical religious leaders who wanted Him to hush the voices of those celebrating Him. The whole creation could not be silenced in such a moment as realizing the long awaited Savior had come. But there was no need for stones to cry out, people praised Him. In likeness, mustn’t these walls long to cry out in such a moment of human suffering? Together, people can silence the walls, because we will lament, and we will send help.
One hundred percent (100%) of your donation could go directly to girls like Soriya.
Wellspring International, which is an arm of
Ravi Zacharias International Ministries, will make sure your money is never used for peripherals. Wellspring thoroughly investigates, covers their own expenses, and often goes to the locations themselves. Administered by Ravi’s daughter,
Naomi Zacharias , Wellspring does the footwork so you don’t have to. That’s right;
One Hundred Percent(100%) of your money goes directly to those in need. Please don’t wait, you can make a difference.
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Very sad, but a great writing.
Hey Paula, thanks for the boost to my writer's ego--it needed it. But, and to be honest, too, you wrote exactly what they asked for--and skirting around the 1st person by using the wall's POV was genius! You had me hooked from beginning to end, on the edge without crossing the line. And I have felt the same, and told my husband so--your piece should win. (but I didn't say I would eat my hat.) :) But regardless, if just one person clicks a link and helps, it'll be worth it. <3
I am stunned...you have written a piece so powerful, so compelling in the way it paints this horrific unspeakable picture of human depravity. Wow Paula the tears are welling up at how profoundly you captured the topic.