Taste of Freedom
Chapter 4
I didn't know how long I was there for before I saw it. It could have been days. Weeks, even, and I still wouldn't have noticed.
This is not a very fun game.
I hardly ever see Pa. He's always gone, missing. He only shows up once in a while.
There was this boy I met. His name was Peter. We got to be really good friends. But the next day when everyone went outside to do some activity, I couldn't find him. I looked everywhere, asking people about him. Mostly everybody didn't meet my eyes. Except Bruce, however. He's always good at explaining things.
"Your Peter went home. You don't have to worry about him anymore." he said, not looking up from what he was doing. A few uniformed men were always walking by. Bruce didn't like them.
I was a little sad. He was a good kid.
"Why aren't you working, Jew?" Someone grabbed my arm tightly. I was frightened.
"I-"
"He just dropped something. He was going to go back." Bruce interrupted. The man turned to him.
"Why don't you let the boy speak? I'm sure he capable of doing just that." It was as if he were challenging Bruce. I started to get upset. I didn't want to but I started crying a little. Just a little. I looked up at the one who was still squeezing my arm. His face was twisted in disgust before he spat in my face and threw my arm down. "Scum." he muttered. I watched him walk away to some of the other soldiers.
"Hey." Bruce said. "This is what you have to do. . ." He took a long time to explain what I had to do. There were these heavy bags of, well, I don't know what, but I had to lift them on to the wheel barrow. Then, I'd have to dump them on the other side of camp. It seemed unnecessary and a little silly. To do that much work that didn't even serve a purpose? I mean, what was in those bags, anyway? But I didn't complain. Not one little word of discontent left my lips.
That was a while ago. Maybe a day or so, I can't remember. Time didn't really matter there.
Anyway.
It sort of shocked me, when I saw it. I was so used to seeing brown, black, gray, and the occasional red. Red stuff was, in fact, everywhere in this camp. It was usually so small that you really had to squint your eyes to see it. There was a funny looking symbol in the middle. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it meant.
But this thing that I saw? It was blue. It made the sky look dull and boring. I was sort of in a trance, just looking at it. I didn't think anyone saw me except when Bruce came along.
"What're you looking at, kid? We're supposed to be getting over to the main area, for roll call. Remember?"
But I didn't care. I mean, you really had to be there to see it. It was fantastic. It stuck out so much compared to the rest of the camp.
"Bruce? What is that?" I pointed to just outside the fence, where the little blue thing was flying.
"That? That's a butterfly." He chuckled. "I'd thought you'd at least know what that was." It was the first time I heard him laugh. That was a little surprising, too, so I looked at his face. The way his eyes looked, so old on a not-so-old man's face, was saddening to say the least. There was barely a trace of a smile in those eyes. It hurt a little to look in them, so I turned back to the . . . butterfly.
"Come on. We have to go." he said, pulling me up by the arm.
I walked away, but every now and then, I turned my head to look back at the butterfly. How out of place she must have felt when she found herself in such a gloomy place.
This is not a very fun game.
I hardly ever see Pa. He's always gone, missing. He only shows up once in a while.
There was this boy I met. His name was Peter. We got to be really good friends. But the next day when everyone went outside to do some activity, I couldn't find him. I looked everywhere, asking people about him. Mostly everybody didn't meet my eyes. Except Bruce, however. He's always good at explaining things.
"Your Peter went home. You don't have to worry about him anymore." he said, not looking up from what he was doing. A few uniformed men were always walking by. Bruce didn't like them.
I was a little sad. He was a good kid.
"Why aren't you working, Jew?" Someone grabbed my arm tightly. I was frightened.
"I-"
"He just dropped something. He was going to go back." Bruce interrupted. The man turned to him.
"Why don't you let the boy speak? I'm sure he capable of doing just that." It was as if he were challenging Bruce. I started to get upset. I didn't want to but I started crying a little. Just a little. I looked up at the one who was still squeezing my arm. His face was twisted in disgust before he spat in my face and threw my arm down. "Scum." he muttered. I watched him walk away to some of the other soldiers.
"Hey." Bruce said. "This is what you have to do. . ." He took a long time to explain what I had to do. There were these heavy bags of, well, I don't know what, but I had to lift them on to the wheel barrow. Then, I'd have to dump them on the other side of camp. It seemed unnecessary and a little silly. To do that much work that didn't even serve a purpose? I mean, what was in those bags, anyway? But I didn't complain. Not one little word of discontent left my lips.
That was a while ago. Maybe a day or so, I can't remember. Time didn't really matter there.
Anyway.
It sort of shocked me, when I saw it. I was so used to seeing brown, black, gray, and the occasional red. Red stuff was, in fact, everywhere in this camp. It was usually so small that you really had to squint your eyes to see it. There was a funny looking symbol in the middle. I couldn't for the life of me figure out what it meant.
But this thing that I saw? It was blue. It made the sky look dull and boring. I was sort of in a trance, just looking at it. I didn't think anyone saw me except when Bruce came along.
"What're you looking at, kid? We're supposed to be getting over to the main area, for roll call. Remember?"
But I didn't care. I mean, you really had to be there to see it. It was fantastic. It stuck out so much compared to the rest of the camp.
"Bruce? What is that?" I pointed to just outside the fence, where the little blue thing was flying.
"That? That's a butterfly." He chuckled. "I'd thought you'd at least know what that was." It was the first time I heard him laugh. That was a little surprising, too, so I looked at his face. The way his eyes looked, so old on a not-so-old man's face, was saddening to say the least. There was barely a trace of a smile in those eyes. It hurt a little to look in them, so I turned back to the . . . butterfly.
"Come on. We have to go." he said, pulling me up by the arm.
I walked away, but every now and then, I turned my head to look back at the butterfly. How out of place she must have felt when she found herself in such a gloomy place.