Grief
“What path does one take to have the foundation of right and wrong so dismantled and distorted that they would cling to anything evil has to offer?” I thought this to myself as I walked, hands bound, being led through a dank, unfamiliar jail hallway. An occasional rat or two scurried past my cold, bare feet.
My hair was a mess, flinging in every direction, reeking of the evil that suppressed this unbearable world. As I continued down the corridor, I was fighting back the exhaustion that was trying to take control of my body until, I entered a cold, colorless cell.
I laid my feet down. The room was murky and screamed the sadistic, gray bricks. My heart stopped as I looked around. I was surrounded in all directions. Surrounded by the inescapable grasp of death itself. From the blood scraped into the v cement patterns on the wall, to the claw marks seared into the cold, dirty ground. My throat began to swell. Bit by bit the interposing horror that surrounded me dripped into the fissures of my skin.
I had lost all hope. Finally, My cracked spirit had shattered. And As I stopped to pick up the remnants of my shattered soul, my heart reflected back to me memories. Memories, that are impossible to forget, memories that brought me to this gateway of hell.
Family now seems all to perfect. The sound of laughter could feed my starving body for weeks on end. Just the sound of love could bring hope back to my soulless corpse. But to remember all this, just crushes me even more. To remember their lifeless faces when dragged away, as if a rag doll behind a child. To remember their desperation ring throughout the subconscious of my oppressed mind. One by one hunted down: because running from Satan himself is a hopelessly, demoralizing quest.
My father was first. They always like to take the leaders first. To diminish any future of hope, and hope for the future…
It was a gray, foggy night, my father attending his religious studies, in the back of our lowly dwelling. At about midnight was when I first saw the glow. The piercing, luminous dark green sprang through the fog winding and slipping through the heavy mist that hung throughout the village. Accompanying the glow was the sound of heavy motors. Next, two desert colored jeeps pulled up to the house, revealing the glowing riders.
They walked out of the jeeps strapped with various forms of weaponry. My throat began to swell. I darted to my mom, and siblings urgently rushing them out the back. As they exited, the mysterious men entered. They called out to my father. My father replied as he swiftly hid his studies. They began questioning him. Finally voices rose, along with emotions.
“We know what you’re up too! We have several reports stating your dishonesty to our government.” They proclaimed robustly.
He looked away. “Answer me, and deny your god. Deny your god for your government and for your life as well as your family’s sake.”
His brown eyes began to distend. He looked up to the sky that awaited him and replied. “I cannot or will not deny what is real. And my God is in my eyes the most real thing to have ever been-,” he was cut short by the crack of a rifle and the rapid splatter of blood on the adjacent wall.
One looked at the other and laughed, “Now go and find this dead man’s family, and show them how great their God really is.”
“No, dad!” My mind screamed.
And with that my mom, and siblings darted into the eternal, foggy blackness that surrounded us, as the fear of people now surrounded our entire minds.
We constantly lived in fear; fear of people, fear of life, fear of each other, even fear of ourselves. We were able to hide, at least for a while. But, in the end “they” still came.
It was night. My family was all sleeping, I was lying on the roof, of an abandoned shack we had used as a shelter. It was the only place to escape the constant fear of my surroundings. Hours and hours past, as I explored the depths of my meticulous mind, but all to soon reality snapped back into play.
The dark green glow had returned. As so did “they.” They walked towards the house reflecting the evil of their heartless cadavers. Their hatred gleamed out of them, even brighter and more brilliant in the dark depths of the night.
My throat began to swell, as well as my eyes. The tears I couldn’t cry, the screams I couldn’t shriek, became locked inside me, as I lie there plastered to the roof. I became one with the stones for the following traumatic moments.
The door opened silently with caution. So silent that I heard the gasps of my siblings as they were relentlessly stabbed and slaughtered in their sheets. My veins froze when I heard my mother scream over her sons’ and daughter’s lifeless bodies that sank into the bloody sheets. Following these screams she was tortured. And all I could do is listen, to her screams of suffering, and helplessness. Tear after tear fell as I listened to the abomination that continued directly underneath me. But finally I knew I was alone, as I heard her lifeless body crash against the cold ground.
My eyes filled with tears, which I haven’t the strength to cry. My heart began to sink as I gazed at the taunting stone room. It even became even more unbearable with each tear filled stare. Human remains such as bowels, thrown up acid, and unidentifiable objects were spread out in all directions of the discreet room. This was due to the nothingness that accompanied the room. No toilet, not even a bed, nothing of comfort..
The longer I sat, the more vivid the splatters of blood became; all having their own story, screaming warnings of this cell. I was surrounded in essence by death itself.
Vibrations suddenly began pulsating throughout the hard, gray floor, predicting movement. I looked up, and waited for Hell.
The dark green glowed throughout the establishment reflecting off the corridors and outer walls vibrating darker and more ominously every second. “I t was them.” My throat began to swell.
They stared at me pointing, laughing. Asking each other if this was really the end of that worthless family. In their hands was a club. It was already covered in blood, hair, and other pieces of torture.
They asked me questions. Questions about other people, such as family and friends: particularly friends having to do with Christianity and faith. And although I was hopeless, I did not wish this hopelessness on anyone else, not even the figures that questioned me.
“Who was involved with your father’s religious affairs?” They interrogated.
My throat was so swollen, I couldn’t speak, so I shook me head left to right. Then gained enough strength to squeak out one word, “Never.” Their reply became long, and continuous swings of the bloody club. After what seemed an eternity, my body collapsed, drifting off to the memories.
After they dragged the four bodies and loaded them into their trucks. They started to converse, revealing the fact they knew I was still alive, and they had to keep hunting.
They finally drove away, and I scurried down the rough stone roof. I walked through the doorway. They had started a fire and were burning everything. I bolted through the heat searching, and scrambling to grab my only belonging: a list of families that were like us that I could run, hide, and stay with in time of troubles. I scooped it up in a hurry, and then bolted back through the burning building. The fire was searing my vision, and ash was thickly compiling throughout my hair. I burst through the orange glow gasping for air; my lungs were screaming for it. I lost strain of thought and dropped to the dirty, jagged ground.
I squeezed and clenched trying not to show fear. They had bound me in chains to the wall, by my hands. Leaving my feet free but forcing me to stand upright in a forced uncomforting.
“They” were still present. Standing there, again questioning me. Again I refused. One of the two quickly swung his fist into my stomach. Following, he hit me dead in the face. I stood there weak, only gasping for air after each blow.
Again they asked, and again I replied, “Never.”
“Wrong answer,” they replied as they swung the club into the side of my skull. Everything became dark, and foggy.
Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months. I searched for the people on the list; many of them were no more. Others just simply didn’t want to bring danger to their family. I began to lose hope, many nights sleeping in alleys and doorsteps. Being constantly thrown around by people, being mugged, robbed, and tormented. But in my mind it was still better than being in the grasps of “them.”
But in the end it was inevitable that they found me. They were everywhere, their very values reflected in their people. And those not reflecting those values were instilled with the fear of the government and its people.
It was the middle of the night, quiet and still. It was an especially cold night for North Korea. My breath echoed through the air, forming spiraling fumes that swirled through the frigid night.
I was huddled in a dirty alley: cold, hopeless, hungry, and lost. But the one thing the frigid night couldn’t freeze away was the feel of heartbreak memories, and loneliness.
My thoughts were all to quickly interrupted. I looked up and the familiar green glow tore into my vision. But this time I welcomed it. Yearning for death its self to pull me away from this place. But I realized I wouldn’t get that lucky, as I was swiftly knocked to the cold rust colored alley. The heteroclites performed that night were just the beginning of the many to follow.
I slowly came back to consciousness, peering out of my blood shut eyelids. There was the smell of gasoline as a sudden wetness overcame my helpless body. Memories began to drench over me.
I had been in the back of a jeep for hours. No food, no water, nothing. The last months had been the worst of my life. Being transported from camp to camp, not knowing what was happening every time transport began. They said I was too valuable to kill. I was bewildered by this, why was I so valuable, why wasn’t I killed like the rest of them?
But just because I was valuable, didn’t mean I could escape the constant beatings. Beatings that were on the verge of killing me, but never succeeded. I wasn’t that lucky. The drive had lasted approximately lasted four days.
When the truck stopped. “They” forcefully removed me from the back. They didn’t speak, only motioned to follow. I was lead into a old rundown building on the outskirts of town.
I walked into the old rundown building. It was a rusty red with a bricklike texture. I walked into the building and was handed a bucket of gasoline, and five matches.
Then I glanced at my surroundings. My body froze. There in front of me were the rotting bodies of my five family members. Lined up from shortest to tallest.
“They” looked at me with a gleam in their eyes, “These bodies of traitors are something we need to rid ourselves of. So burn them.” And then his eye twinkled. “And if you don’t we will slaughter them before your eyes until they are unrecognizable.”
My tears mixed in with the gasoline that poured over the five lifeless bodies. They were each strapped to a chair, and even the strong smell of the gasoline couldn’t erase the horrible smell that hung throughout the air. As I finished douncing the last body, I remember for the first time that I had hated someone. But I did not hate them; I started to hate the whole human race. And then as each person burned, popped, and boiled in the immense heat, I dropped to the floor, and balled, letting the tears pour. I cried for them, I cried for me, letting go of every emotion I had held in for so long.
Then they started laughing, and my weak frail body sprang to its feet. I grabbed a shovel that stood in the corner of the rundown shack, and slammed it into one of their skulls, hearing the crack of bone and the gasp of death.
But to my disadvantage they travel in pairs. And I was quickly contained as he knocked me to the ground and landed a kick to my dirty face.
The last statement I remembered before I drifted off was him saying, “Ah, now he is ready to talk.” And when I woke up Here I was in this Hideous jail.
The gasoline burned without even a flame. It was poisoning my mind with every breath, and “they” knew it, but I would never talk. Once again they looked at me, as I hung my head down helplessly.
“Who were they, we know you know! This all ends if you tell us.” I said nothing in reply. Again they asked, “The leaders: your father’s friends.” One then slowly moved his eyes so they were square with mine, and then moved closer. “Do you know what it’s like to be burned alive? To have your flesh bubble until the heat tears it open and your skin evaporates as if water?” He moved in so close I could taste his breath. “Do you really want to feel that pain?”
I looked up at him and almost smiled. “That’s what I feel every second of every day.” I weakly continued. “Bring your worst… I will never tell you a word, for my god has saved a place for me in the heaven which you are to blind to see.”
They glared at me with a hate beyond belief. They screamed, throwing a lit match that exploded into an explosion of heat. But to my surprise I felt nothing, and they saw this and were bewildered. The fire then turned from orange to blue and a flash shone from the sky above. They saw this and were amazed. Then in awe they watched as I slowly reached into my pocket and grabbed the list and tore it up and threw it on the floor. They tried to grab it and were burned. And in this pain they shouted and cursed as I saw the burn spread amongst their whole body. Then the building shook, and I suddenly was filled with a spectacular image of my family. They were waving on the golden streets of the king and son. They were full of love and splendor, which illuminated through their golden bodies with a brilliant radiance. A sudden warmth overcame me, as my spirit separated from my physical body and drifted to the eternal joy that I had longed. As I arrived, I was met with love. Love that illuminated brilliantly through the multitude of love ones drifting me into to an eternity of hope and love.
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