by, Melissa R. Mendelson
The Wall. The Wall was not made of stone. It was not made of brick or wood. It was as if someone had just switched on a vacuum, creating a void that inhaled anything, anyone in its path. It didn’t matter if you were friend or foe. Once in the void, there was no escape, and they had promised to release us. That promise was a very long time ago.
In the beginning, the void was not so crowded. Now, there was hardly any room to breathe. Bodies constantly banged against another, but they hardly fell down. They struggled to grip whatever invisible walls surrounded us, walls as black as night, and I cannot remember seeing daylight. The skeletons have become dust underneath our feet. A head went rolling past like a bowling ball struggling to knock down its pins but failing miserably before being swallowed by the darkness, and a child’s cry was like a siren in here. My heart broke as many did for a child should not be here, but the Wall did not differentiate.
I don’t know why I bother, but I keep myself moving, pushing through this endless sea of misery. So many voices. So many arguments. So much confusion, and so much violence. I find some that truly belong here, but the rest… They’re just like me. We have lost our ability to tell the difference between friend and foe, and when the truth comes out, it’s always too late. So, we the pay the price for that failure, and I will spend the rest of my days here locked in-between. But why should I suffer? When will they release us, but the horror of that truth has already cut into me. They can’t or won’t. They feel safer keeping us all locked away, and for that, the future will suffer.
Maybe, there is a better way, but nobody has found it yet. Maybe, there’s no money in it. When did our veins become green? The dollar is king, and I could use a burger. When was the last time I enjoyed food? When was the last time that I even slept? If there was a hell, it would be in here, drowning in a dark and cold abyss, strangled by an endless sea of bodies rocked and broken by this world, and the children huddled at our feet, looking up in desperation that they want replaced with hope. But Hope’s gone, silenced by Pandora’s Box, and all the evil locked inside now reigns. We live in a very cruel and dark place, and maybe this Wall keeps the monsters at bay. Or maybe we are the monsters desperate to escape. I can’t tell anymore. I’ve been here for too time, and still the Wall remains. And more are consumed with each and every day. Why am I here? Why me? I want to go home. I want to live. Are these words of innocence or monstrosity in disguise? I can’t tell. Neither can they, so they just continue to Wall us up inside. And like those before me, I too will fall, and when I do, I will become nothing more than dust, a head to roam across the dark abyss because they can’t tell friend from foe.