The Tulip Field

She yells at us. Her wrinkled face stretching as she opens her mouth to reveal her yellow and rotting teeth. Her whip grasped firmly in her left hand and the other tightly clenched as a fist. The kids beside me who are digging for potatoes shudder and I think the younger one whimpers. I pretend I don't notice and begin to dig deeper into the mud with my hands. It’s all I can do to push my thoughts away.

I feel some sweat drip down my face and I wipe it away without thinking. The mud makes me feel worse so I try to wipe it on the sack dress that I woke up wearing the day I came here. She doesn't give us shoes, only the boys, so I sink my toes into the cool earth; savoring the luxury while I still can.

One of the younger boys pulling the cart full of carrots falls and face plants into the mud. I hear the sound of her boots marching through the squishy stuff and the sound of her whip being raised. I look away. There's a swishp then a cry, but it sounds too deep to be his. I look back over and see one of the older boys standing over him. There's a quick flash of anger on her face then three more lashes. I wince as each one falls on his back and bite down on the inside of my mouth. An ugly habit, but there's no one around to tell me other wise; no, I’ve left that life behind.

There's blood all over what’s left of his shirt and she grabs him by the collar, forcing him into the house. Once the door closes behind her you can hear the shouting and then the few smacks that sound merciless and hard. The younger boy from earlier, now standing, stares at the house in bewilderment. I think that might have been his older brother in there. No, I think to myself, you can't be worrying about them, focus. I look up from my hole and scan the area. The carrot field is far back in the distance and you can barely see the figures pulling and loading the vegetables. I do this whenever I can. Since that first night there's only been one thing on my mind and that was the word escape and I'll do anything to achieve just that.

*******************

ring.ring.ring
She rings the bell and all the children, even me, flock to the doorway where sitting on the ground in a trough is maybe four loafs of bread that has without a doubt been stale for more than six weeks. The kids are like savages, literally. The older ones elbow, push, and steps over little kids while the younger ones try to scrounge for their servings. Normally I don't rush for the food, but this time I had a pretty good head start and was one of the lucky few to reach it first. I snatch five slices of the stuff then high-tail it out not wanting to drown in the sea of sweaty and dirty bodies.

Once I'm on the outside of the crowd I have to bend over and breathe for a second. I managed to escape the worst of the crowd, but I still had to weave my way around the younger ones who aren't quite so fast. Taking one slice I just shove the whole thing into my mouth and in doing so throwing all the manners I had to learn in my fourteen years out the window. She only feeds us twice a day, once in the morning and once in the afternoon. We go to sleep on empty stomachs which only makes us all the more ravenous in the morning.

I'm about to shove another slice down my throat when I see the boy who was whipped earlier. He's sitting alone quite a ways from the food and it takes me a moment to figure out why. Only when he moves his ankle do I see the shackles that chain him to the side of the house. His face is swollen and red on both sides from where she had hit him and I see him wince when he sits and leans up against the wall. One thing that I thought was odd was that she never watched us when we ate. Always watching when we worked and sometimes even when we slept if there were no new slaves arriving that night, but never when we ate.

I look left, then right, even behind me, and through the windows to see that unmistakable figure but there's no one. Being the cautious person I am I still take precaution and make it look as though I'm running back for seconds. I blend in with the other kids then edge my way towards the boy as far as I can without being noticed.

The minute he sees me and the extra bread in my hand he ever so slightly shakes his head. Now that I've got a closer view of his face I decide that he's not that bad looking minus the minor swelling on his cheeks. I make the gesture that I'll toss it too him and he shakes his head a little harder. But like any good Duchess who was raised right, I ignore him. I take a slice, turn around, hold my breathe, and then quickly toss the bread in his direction while I pretended to be interested in a scratch on the side of the house. It lands behind his thigh and I see a look of alarm cross his face when it does. He starts looking all around then he stops, confused. Eventually, he shrugs as much as his injury will allow then pockets the stuff. Not wanting to eat it in plain sight.

I grin a little. He sends a quick glance at me that I can't read then looks the other way. Now it was my turn to be confused. What did he know? Was there some one or something else watching us or was he just one of those kids who were retarded? I looked around and started to study the area again, trying to see what he saw but it all looks normal. Well, as normal as this place gets. The trees leaves are their usual colors of gold and amber, the grass look thin and wild, and the fields just look the same. So what then? I mull it around for a little while then decide to forget it. The last thing I need right now is to be paranoid.