The Sea

• Stevie Butler, Grade 10, Elisabeth Murdoch College
• Short Story
• 2012

Excellence Award in the 'Legendary 2012' competition

THE SEA
The sea of blue and white stripes, of shaven heads and brown eyes, shuffled mechanically across the dry, cracked earth to shrill, echoing whistles and harsh German commands. Confusion lay over the crowd, like a dense, invisible fog, a bitter fear that could be smelt, even tasted in the air. The hollow slim bodies, too thin for their clothes, edged bewildered and scarred towards the dark, looming building, that set them in its shadow. A vast blue sky stretched above them, cloudless and clear, smooth and untroubled, indifferent to the scene below. They stripped off their clothes, their shoes, their hats, their bodies bare and sickly, handing what they had to the uniformed Nazis with trembling fingers and fearful hearts. In a single file line that snaked across the pale, brown earth they moved through the heavy metal doors, one soul at a time. Fear broke out in quivers that shook so violently you could smell it, taste it, feel it from a mile away. Desperate and scarred, terrified and urgent, people ran from the line, only to be pieced by burning, piercing silver bullets that stirred the crowd, forcing fear down their throats. Souls whispered and prayed, clutched each other, hugged themselves. Other smiled insanely, desperate, for finally, a way out. Oblivious children waited, confused, perhaps tables of food or rows of soft beds awaited them beyond the heavy iron doors. Thousands crammed in after one another, little air to be breathed, little room to be left. Shoulders against shoulders, bodies against walls, the building shaking in anticipation, in fear, in confusion. The sun darkened without clouds, the doors slammed and then echoed, people screamed and they shouted. Weak hands clawed the walls. Fists bleed on the doors and gave out on the floors. People sobbed and they pleaded, they cried and they begged. They grasped one another, they prayed, they cursed. They fell to their knees; they clutched themselves, the walls, their screams haunting the air. It realised in a hiss, pouring out in a trickle, a drip and a flow. And for a moment the sky darkened, the wind held its breath, air ceased to exist, the clouds hesitated and fauna paused to listen. Then all was silent. Inside and out. Silent, ringing and still. Their bodies limp, unmoving, soulless and dead. Hundreds, thousands, dead.