TELL ME A SECRET

THE FIRE WITHIN ME

My hands slither over a cold rusty object that is slick with grime and mould. Its horrific surface cause me to almost instantaneously jump back with disgust. A small clank echos throughout the room causing the floor to shift. My fragile head makes sharp contact with the stony floor causing my already threadbare stained clothes to have a red sticky substance dribbling down the front. I try to get get up but my nimble legs collapse underneath me like a earthquake struck building. The one miraculous thing that stops my bony head to meet the ground once more is a divit in the crumbling stone. As I straighten my legs and stand my hand comes in contact with an object. It is smooth and shaped in a odd way. As my eyes adjust to the light engulfing the room I see this is a key. A key to a possibly better life. A life. My family mutter and groan. My uneventful attempt of trying to arise them fail. Telling them that they have a chance is like telling a dying man he will live. They don't believe me.

Suddenly the door flies open revealing the figure of a burly man whose eyes gleam with fire and aggravation. Nothing can stop him and what he wants. My heart skips a beat as in my mind sirens flash calling this is a chance. I look at my sister and my parents and see they are willing to try just this once. I leap to my feet which have big ugly blisters that are indescribable. I leap and start pounding this man with all my might. The impact: insignificant. The distraction: incredible. The weak bodies are carried by their hesitant legs as fast as they will let them go. It is hard to see them run with such determination yet such pain. We manage to dodge the aggravated crowd. Down maze like corridors we struggle until we come to a blockage. A standstill. A barrier. A door. My trembling hands fumble the key. It slips in the lock at turns. To no avail does it open. My hands sweat profusely and slither over the smooth surface. My stick like fingers stop over and engraved message. 4 innocent numbers. My hands look at the number pad that could also be used to unlock the door. 5 24 9 20.

The door gives a click which sends relief rushing through our veins. The cold air greets us as we step out cautiously onto the uprooted path. In the distant we hear alarms and people are shouting. That is for us. We have to run and get away from this depressing madness. We start repeating our family message like a broken record.

Thy shall persist

To no avail

Will one succeed

Until one day

When one sits in the warmth

Of ones home

Will she understand

We repeat that as our legs moter on the uneven path. Our painful feet work to the brink of total exhaustion as they know their target. The comfort of home. Tree branches reach out and scratch us, they pull at our tangled hair and they have a desire which is to cause hurt. The air whispers and gossips around us . Tears of heartache fill my eyes though the reason does not exist anymore.

For days and months we run. Never to stop remembering them. It is hard to believe that we were once weak defenceless people have now come back to defend others. As we finally come to the clearing we see the empty streets.We see turrets peaking over the other roofs. Home. The door is the way I left it when I escaped. Covered with a blanket of dust was our belongings. The first thing I do is light the cold embers to create warmth in the heart. To fulfil that wish I had when they were taken. To relight life.

I walk up the creaky ladder to the attic. The last place I was before I went on my successful mission. The curtain leaps out the window wishing to be free. Against its will I close the window. I find a loose board in which contains a piece of paper. Our family secret. The cause of this impalement. I snatch it and run down stairs with tears of pain I throw it into the fire. I watch it burn. Burn.