Freedom

• Thirani Munasinghe, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2015

Thud. Thud. Thud. My heartbeat rang out in my ears as I sprinted. I had been running for hours on end. I wanted to stop, I needed to stop. I couldn’t. Not if I wanted to escape. No, I could never stop. Not yet.
My chest was burning and my bony ribs tapped away at my skin. My watery eyes, they were locked, locked on the small opening of dim light miles away. My arms swung to a rhythm of a marching band, quick and sharp. The long fingers were curled inwards, secured by the gnarly thumbs. My weary legs were practically flying, barely touching the slippery ground. My knees were starting to buckle, but I kept sprinting.
I saw the opening spot turn into a circle then a bigger blob. I had run far enough for now. I could take a small rest. I collapsed onto the slimy ground. I dug into my pocket and pulled out an almost empty bottle of water. I scoured the other pocket and found three measly crumbs of bread. Well it would have to do.
Feasting on my scarce meal, of a crumb of bread and two sips of water, I sat there in the dark thinking about the things that have happened in the past few days. Those words, why was she screaming them out? Get to the light, find it! It will bring you freedom! Why? Why were they the last words she chose as they dragged her off? So many questions, no answers.
“Why?” I shouted into the darkness. I was so frustrated. “Why? Why? Why?” My voice echoed through the tunnel. I shuddered. All alone, in the dark, freezing to death, not knowing what to do, I’m only nine.
I started walking, towards the opening. I held an arm out, in front of me. I could make out the white armband on my wrist. The dark blue six- pointed star gleamed at me in the light.
Suddenly, I heard a noise. Two pairs of cluttering feet. “Over here!” A gruff voice called. They were coming! I started to run, but slipped on the hem of the blue and white striped pyjamas. I landed hard, hitting my knee on a jagged rock. Pain erupted in my knee. I peered down and saw dark red blood oozing slowly down my leg.
I tried to stand up and hobble to the clearing but didn’t have strength. The footsteps were getting louder and louder. My knee was throbbing with agony. I felt a hand grip my shoulder. Not a comforting one. This hand was rough, the fingers grinded into my shoulder. They jerked me upwards and towed me back, further away from the opening. I yanked and heaved but his grip was too strong.
My legs were aching and my knee was in pure anguish as they hauled me away. I had failed. Now to live a life of torture in the hands of what others call the Nazi…