Death Road

Dear Eleanor,

I had never known true fear, gripping and destructive as it wove its way through every thought, every action. My hazel eyes took in every detail to the point everything seemed slowed, as if everyone was running around me while I stood still, captivated by the smallest of movements and detail. The short, shaved head of the tanned Cambodian man screamed harsh words that held no literature meaning, his desperate and emotion driven cries held another meaning. His iron grip held my head in place as the feeling of the cold, dead pistol being pressed under my jaw drove the adrenalin through us both, with me through fear, with him, triumph. They had succeeded three foreigners within their grasps, all at their mercy lost in this strange, unforgiving world.

I had no desire for love no I longed for adventure and the flavours of the world, that created the tapestry of my fast pace life was one of the many perks. I longed for the experiences the brilliance found in the array of different cultures that made this world so extraordinary. Europe held a sophisticated, regal edge that set the bench mark for western civilizations. Africa, the untamed edge burned in those piecing brown eyes. Asia with the ancient customs and traditions that flowed through the generations. All of these races where filled with a brilliant background, a history that made them unique, inspiring.

Phnom Penh was beautiful with its colourful temples that left you breathless as you crossed the excruciatingly detailed thresholds. Cambodia was a place I had longed to visit, and thankfully a scheduled on location shoot had given me the chance to see, to experience this wild place first hand. Once you ventured off the tourist routes and dug deeper into the culture that again wove through each civilian. One would discover a dark edge to this city, a dark edge that was only just concealed by the attempts to keep attacks and other threats out of the news. And after learning the dark truths of this buzzing city even my fearless personality was growing uneasy.

The shoot was to take place in the Elephant Mountains along Death Road as some of the locals referred to it as. The winding dirt track wove deep into the mountains, and the Khmer Rouge ruled with a ruthlessness unheard of to the western world. Locals told horrifying stories of the violent attacks against foreigners, attacks they failed to be mentioned to me and the other two hired models as they flew us in.

It was late afternoon when we had finally tracked down a taxi game enough to take us the 135-mile journey. I remember being uneasy as I settled into the seat with the two other model close friends of mine Dominic and Tina. And as we bumped along the windy road I did what my mother would have done, I prayed that we would get out of this unscathed.
The taxi driver slowed to a stop as did the four cars up ahead as the Khmer Rouge sprang into action. Demanding food and money from the locals in their own battered, beat up cars. They complied of course, a gun being shoved through their windows went a long way to back up their harsh threats. None of them had any foreigners with them, which was what determined out fate.

I remember the way their rough, course hand wove through my long locks of hair as they dragged us out of our car. The fresh fruit in the back seat holding no value compared to what the three of us offered. Our kidnapping was a statement against the world we came from, we would be the message that would reach the shores of our homes. For the people that had come from the world that offered everything we would be broken down to just our instincts, deprived of anything with any value as we were held captive.

I was forced to watch with horrified and tear-filled eyes as my companions were plucked off one by one. Their life being the next price they both paid. The image of their lifeless eyes would be with me until the end, that I knew. You could almost see the spark of life, the brilliance in their eyes, fade until it was no more. My face, plastered on billboards around the world made me the focus of their desires for recognition, for justice in their heartless eyes. My life would send the biggest message, the message that has failed to reach most of the western world.

I write this too you Eleanor as I want you to never be as selfish as I was. I believed I was better than these civilians, protected by a law of our own world. The world I entered was unlike our own, with their harsh and extreme ways of keeping order. Of making sure the strongest survived, not only survived but rose to the top. They ruled with a ruthlessness found throughout all of our cultures histories. This world hasn’t forgotten what we have. We’re hunters Eleanor, killers by nature. We in our world have become more sophisticated learnt to bury such desires. But they are there Eleanor, and it doesn’t take much to bring them out once more. I don’t want you to avenge my death, I want you to listen to what I say, and read in between the lines of what I’m unable to put in. Love Eleanor, love until you can’t anymore, as this is how we will win this never ending war. Do what I never did, and learn to love.