Asleep

You know that feeling when everything is going great and you’re seemingly on a cloud of bliss but like a knife a part of you cuts in reminding you not to get too attached or warning you something bad is probably around the corner? It was like that. My entire family had been taken away in the night. I awoke from my dream in the refugee camp to the smell of smoke and fires and they were all gone from their beds, only crumpled blankets remained. They must not have seen me. I did always sleep with my face covered; I could not stand the sound of mosquitos buzzing in my ears.

We had finally arrived at the camp 3 weeks prior. I was still in a daze from seeing the light of day for the first time in years. Back in District 9, they had found us and were collecting families one by one. We had to get out while we could and although it was night when we left, our eyes blurred and burned being seared by the sun on that boat when the sun appeared at dawn.

When we finally arrived at Colfer barracks I felt so much relief flooding into every cell of my being. Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing until you experience it again. No more living underground, no more darkness, freedom to breathe fresh air, to hear bird sings, to not live in constant fear that they would capture us and use us for their sick experiments. But in an instant, I had nothing, I had no one, it was just me and my one glorious and precious life.

I wasn’t even conscious in that moment, I wasn’t awake. Sometimes I think I have a memory of what it looked like when they were taken out of our tent, the looks on their faces, fear in their eyes, but in reality I missed all of it. How can you sleep through the moment your family needed you the most? Of course now I can’t sleep. I guess I’ve gotten so used to the dark, it comforts me somehow. When you wake up bad things happen that cannot be undone. In the night we manage miles. We forage for anything that might have value so we can purchase the supplies to keep our little kingdom afloat. That is how I found it.

We were walking down a street of seemingly abandoned houses, old Victorian homes with beautiful lines and details. This one home, I think it was light blue, but in the dark its hard to be sure, but I felt a sense to go in there. I walked up the steps and the door was unlocked. A massive grandfather clock starred down at me in the entryway still tick-tocking loudly. I slowly crept up the stairs and entered a room. I could not believe what I saw.

It had been made into a workshop of some kind, tables and shelves were filled with thousands of golden necklaces, pocket watches, and other wares. I barely saw him amongst all the glittering gold. This poor old man slumped at his work table. He had been shot, a single bullet to the head, but he looked so peaceful. And this is what he was working on at that moment, this simple heart-shaped locket. I couldn’t bear to take anything else from him, he had already sacrificed so much.

I’ve never thought to sell it either. It reminds me of my family and all the love we share. I often wonder who he was making this for, for a granddaughter or daughter or wife. We have a lot in common, him and I, his entire family was taken too.