Picture entitled: Dark Angel Rising © by John D. Stanton 2006 www.3AMBlue.com.
IDIOM'S TRUTH
by Gerardine Baugh © 2007
I stepped clumsily through the spongy bog. Pushing aside the tall sword like cattails that sway above me, slicing at my exposed skin. Burning from the criss-cross, straight edge cuts. The deep slices drip dark red, beaded threads of blood. Smearing, then mingling with the dirt and sweat trailing down my face and neck. I can hear the mosquitoes buzzing around me. They pose no threat to me; it's the ones that make no sound I worry about.
Cattails rustle to my left. I stop; waiting. My calloused, bare feet, mud covered now, disappear beneath the earth. The sound of my own breathing amplified in the strange quiet. Even the wind seemed to purposely be still. Something is waiting for me to make a mistake!
I keep my eyes to the ground like a child; hiding.
I feel foolish, what more can they do to me? I took a deep breath then I stood up slowly. My knees cracked; I swaying for a second, and then regained my balance.
Nothing happened; squinting through the heavy foliage. I saw-- nothing.
I moved on.
Two years ago they came down from the skies. Fast! Explosions, fire, ciaos, people screaming. My friends, family, neighbors were picked up off the streets, and out of their homes.
The first were taken from the hospitals; those that could not run or fight back.
At night, the silence would blanket us.
Eerie silence; the birds were gone, even mice disappeared. Then, at night-- we did.
I was standing with my neighbor, outside near the back fence. While talking I dropped my son's toy car. I bent down to pick it up. In that split second, when I looked away; my neighbor, my long time friend, vanished.
Grabbing my son, we hid in the hall closet all night; waiting.
In the morning we were found; then taken to this camp. Once a month, their ships would come.
We speculated on it, in the dark, when the children slept. Then loudly, during the day, after all the children were gone.
Are they using us as food; for sport, to experiment on?
In the beginning they tried to speak with us, they were crude, angry gestured wildly.
Fear took over.
They stopped talking; then the roundup started.
I stumbled, falling into the mud
‘They would be coming soon.' I thought. ‘No one has gotten this far, ever.'
I turned and looked over my shoulder. The view was the same as that before me; a cattail forest.
I licked my cracked lips; wishing for clean water.
‘Jamie,' the whispered sound of my name, made me stop. I bent slightly, couching like an animal;
I shook my head. It's my imagination. ‘Not real,' I told myself. Beside they don't call me by name; only the number stamped on this ankle bracelet.
I moved on, I smell food. I hear laughter, glasses clinking, and children's voices.
“You're losing it.” I whispered. Then closed my eyes tight, and silently telling myself to, ‘shut up.'
Underfoot the ground is giving way to muddy water, each step sinks lower. I reach out, peering through the tall spiked leaves. Water opens up before me; I can see the other side, darkened; Foreboding.
I should wait until night fall. “No I should cross now.” I mumbled. They like to hunt at night. I heard them screaming. They rattle the doors, trying to claw their way in.
A sound behind me! Another to the right! They're coming.
My head spins. Nauseous, I hesitate. Look back, and then move forward into the dark waters; out of the implied safety of the cattails.
My movements cause the water to splash. ‘Sounds, I am making sounds!' I hesitate.
A large bird, on the shore, irritated turns toward me. I see another in-between the tree tops. They shift, and then are gone in the shadows.
A scream skims across the water. I move forward, shivering; not from cold.
Again, it screams. I wade farther into the water, until I have to swim. I only know how to doggy paddle. That's all I need. Slowly I move away from the shore.
Now, I feel confidant. I haven't been outside the encampment in over two years.
I swim for my life. But to where? My family is gone, the ships took them.
My friends; I watched them die.
Depression hits, surrounding me like the muddy water I'm in. Nowhere to run from this!
Oh, God, they're here!
They haven't spotted me, yet. As they search the shoreline. They move easily through the heavy mud, despite their size; nearly nine feet tall, muscular. Green skin, tortoise likes features. Their clothing never gets dirty or wet. Nor, do they notice the mud, heat or cold.
They took my son a month ago. He cried, clinging to me. His tears soaked into my thin shirt. I ripped my knuckles' open fighting them, trying to protect my son. My son!
The last thing I remember was their eyes; they looked as hurt as I. ‘they don't they like fighting for their food?' I thought, as I passed out.
When I awoke, he was gone. The ship was gone. Only a few humans were left waiting for the next ship. Eyes that mirrored my own! Their pain! My pain! My heart screams in agony. No one is left!
The scream comes again. This time the water ripples. I didn't see it, just its shadow. Angles coming to help, an angel coming to save me; my son! My friends!
The creatures on the shore yell and roared. They would lose one human this day. I smiled as I thought. ‘I will be free.'
The claws struck hard, they went through my chest, ripping my heart out, into the calm waters.
For a split second I see them on the shore. Shaking their heads then turning back to the camp; as I am lifted from the waters.
Carried across; where my arrival is hungrily awaited.
