Luna Caged: Behind the Wall by Margaret McHeyzer

Author:Margaret McHeyzer [McHeyzer, Margaret]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

I’ve been walking for a while, and I’m still in the thick of the trees. They don’t seem to become any thinner. My feet are hurting, but my determination spurs me on.

Suddenly, I come to the edge of the trees. Beyond the trees, is nothing. Just land as far as I can see.

It’s like the trees completely disappear. The sun has left, and now the moon has come out. I must’ve been walking a while. My tummy grumbles, and it reminds me how I haven’t eaten.

But I’m mostly thirsty.

Standing at the edge of the trees, I try to work out which way to go. There really is nothing here. The darkness of the night doesn’t let me see clearly, but it’s also quiet. Maybe the tortured souls have all died. Maybe there’s no life beyond the wall.

I should turn back.

Go back to where I know I’m safe.

Don’t stop now.

I either keep going, or I turn back. But, I’ve come this far.

My feet and heart know what to do. They keep moving forward, in the darkness.

As I’m moving, I notice how the quiet is replaced by many sounds. Something between mumbling, and laughter, and even moaning. I squint to see ahead of me, a fire is burning. As I approach the fire, everything becomes clearer. There are pieces of material held up by poles everywhere.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” a rough male voice growls at me as I step on something.

“I’m sorry,” I reply, but can’t see who yelled at me.

My eyes are focused, and I’m searching for something, but I don’t know what I’m actually looking for. “You don’t look like you belong here,” the same deep voice says as he stands. He’s a man. A very tall man. Much like Elder Steven. But he’s very dirty, and when he smiles, his teeth are all rotten.

“Are you diseased?” I ask. My voice is just above a whisper.

“Diseased? What are you talking about, woman?” he snarls as he looks me up and down.

“Woman? What’s a woman?” I ask.

He tilts his head in question and steps forward. I step back, because if he’s diseased, then I don’t want to get sick too. Automatically, I raise my hand to cover my mouth and nose. I need to get back, I shouldn’t be here. Trembling with fear, I begin to run. But I running away from the wall, not toward it.

The diseased and tortured are getting thicker and thicker. I run through them, hoping I haven’t caught what they have.

As I’m running, I hit into a wall. But it’s not a wall, it’s a man. “Hey, sugar, slow down.”

Stepping back, I look up at him. “You’re not diseased?” I ask as I take in his healthy appearance.

“Diseased? What are you talking about?”

“Are you an Elder?”

He looks me up and down, a small questioning look on his face. “An Elder?” He shakes his head in response. “Where are you from?” I point behind me. He looks over my shoulder to where I’m pointing, then asks,

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