We ran through the green, grassy fields of wild flowers, glowing as the bright, warm sunshine glistened off of the morning dew that had settled on the soft petals. Laughter followed us, floating on the summer wind. It was mid-July and it was hot.
The grassy fields grew up from the baked, dead grass that laid beneath it, which crunched under our bounding footsteps. The flowers bloomed from the nutritious soil, fertilized by the decaying bodies of the children who couldn't survive.
The sweet laughter ringing in our ears was innocent, childlike, but we knew better. It was taunting us, begging us to return, but we ran on and on. This laughter was the sound of screams, distorted by the illusion of the gold and marbled castle walls. It was built this way to draw the children in. It seemed pure and happy, like laughter and gold and marble should seem.
But how can it be this way? How could something so horrible and so evil seem to be so exciting and so happily thrilling? How do cells of iron and steel look like a castle of marble and gold? How do horrified screams of terror sound like the giddy laughter of children?
The answer is this, a purifier, built by the best technicians, scientists, and mechanics ever known to man. It works like a water purifier. Dirty water goes in, clean water comes out. Tortured screams go through this purifier and laughter comes out.
We continue to run and run, crunching across the grassy field, hands over our ears, blocking out the sweet sound of the screams of the children who were tortured beside us, the children who were too unfortunate to escape.
