Status: Short Story.
Death Road
Dead Road (Final Final)
Dear Eleanor,
I had never known true fear, gripping and destructive as it wove its way through every thought, every action. I 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.
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. The edge began in the poverty, in the way children stood, skin and bones adored in rages. The way men had missing limbs, a result of the war and devastation that swept through the harsh streets. A dark edge that was only just concealed by the attempts to keep the 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 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. I began no notice just how advanced western civilization actually was, and how the poverty ridden towns seemed to be almost taken straight out of the Stone Age.
The major difference I noticed between our cultures as I watched the violence in the streets one night was almost their complete disregard for human life. It was as if the life of others meant nothing to them. The way that abused each other, the way they lashed out to those nearest to them. Anyone who wasn’t family was almost considered a threat, an outsider to those within their own circles. This development only made me more uneasy and wished for this trip to be over with.
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.
Being dragged out of the taxi was only the beginning of the harsh treatment we would later receive. 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 understand just how advanced our western civilization has become. The way we regard life itself is extraordinary, we protect it, guard it with everything we have. The way the Khmer Rouge regard life is something us westerners couldn’t even comprehend. We’re pawns in their hands, only keeping us alive while we had a use, a purpose. Once that purpose is gone, we are cast aside as if we are nothing more than animals. They have almost reverted back to the stone ages with the way they have no regards for human life at all, and the way they longed to be cut off from the rest of the world to rule in their own ruthless ways. Once you venture out of the cities more civil ways you begin to notice the change drastically and I want you to promise me Eleanor that you will never visit this place. This place hasn’t evolved, they live by the guidelines and desires that we have supressed and I want you to remember how far we’ve come and to not take what we have or what we are for granted, as I did.
Love, Kellie.
I had never known true fear, gripping and destructive as it wove its way through every thought, every action. I 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.
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. The edge began in the poverty, in the way children stood, skin and bones adored in rages. The way men had missing limbs, a result of the war and devastation that swept through the harsh streets. A dark edge that was only just concealed by the attempts to keep the 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 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. I began no notice just how advanced western civilization actually was, and how the poverty ridden towns seemed to be almost taken straight out of the Stone Age.
The major difference I noticed between our cultures as I watched the violence in the streets one night was almost their complete disregard for human life. It was as if the life of others meant nothing to them. The way that abused each other, the way they lashed out to those nearest to them. Anyone who wasn’t family was almost considered a threat, an outsider to those within their own circles. This development only made me more uneasy and wished for this trip to be over with.
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.
Being dragged out of the taxi was only the beginning of the harsh treatment we would later receive. 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 understand just how advanced our western civilization has become. The way we regard life itself is extraordinary, we protect it, guard it with everything we have. The way the Khmer Rouge regard life is something us westerners couldn’t even comprehend. We’re pawns in their hands, only keeping us alive while we had a use, a purpose. Once that purpose is gone, we are cast aside as if we are nothing more than animals. They have almost reverted back to the stone ages with the way they have no regards for human life at all, and the way they longed to be cut off from the rest of the world to rule in their own ruthless ways. Once you venture out of the cities more civil ways you begin to notice the change drastically and I want you to promise me Eleanor that you will never visit this place. This place hasn’t evolved, they live by the guidelines and desires that we have supressed and I want you to remember how far we’ve come and to not take what we have or what we are for granted, as I did.
Love, Kellie.