Stage Five: Adjustment

The boxes looked harmless, infact, they looked like lunch boxes. Angie took a step towards the boxes and the two girls on the tables hugged their legs for dear life.
“They look ok.” Angie announced.
I walked over to her as she bent down to pick up a dark blue box with rust along the edges. The latch that held it shut was orange and powdery from rusting. On the side opposite from the latch was a black dry rot handle. Angie flipped the rusted latch and opened the box.
The girls on the tables let out murderous screams that caused Angie to spill the contents of the box. I jumped back, worried that those girls might have had reason to scream.
Angie was laughing then, almost uncontrollably. I looked over at her and then the floor. There was a single piece of plain bread and a sliver of dried meat the size of a quarter. It was just food, relief flooded my system as I realized that I’d been holding my breath. I took a deep breath and my stomache rumbled.
The girls eventually got off their tables to change and eat. They were both from a high school in my county. Sharon, a short and pudgy blond girl, was a junior and Lauren, a short skinny girl with red hair, was a senior.
All four of us pulled our table together and started talking about everything that had happened and anything that might happen in the near future. We decided on how to fairly split food rations so that we could stay somewhat healthy, we made up scheduals for exersize, and we scratched out a calender to keep track of the days.
That went on for months, the same rutine of getting up and being fed almost nothing and working out and sleeping only to get up and do it again the next day. We started to smell after a while, there was no water to drink let alone bathe in. After a while, we got used to the stench, it didn’t even phase us. But the hunger did. We were so hungry all the time. It was a constant nawing in the pits of our stomach. It made us feel sick, we didn’t want to move, to do anything but eat what little we had.
We strugled. Every day felt longer than the one before it. Each night lasted for ever. And all our meals seemed to grow smalled. Our hope grew smaller too.
It was four months into our captivity when they finally came for us. A hose in the door way sprayed us raw, pushed us up against the wall. Then they came in, men in dark blue uniforms, came in and grabbed us, drug us out into the hall, then out on a yard, into the blinding sun light. Chains on our feet weighed us down, kept us from following our instinct to run. They shoved something into our hands, a shovel, and told us to dig. We were going to dig a tunnel from the east coast of the United States to the western shores of Europe.

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Based on a very elaborate dream I had in which I was a student in this high school. The story goes on to tell how myself and a small group of friends survived the initial wave of attack only to be locked in something similar to a concentration camp where the people around us were slowly being killed off.

Comments

  • CrystalNoellyn
    CrystalNoellynabout 6 years ago

    awesome!…
    few suggestions. i’ll print those out for you.

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