The Fence (Act III – The Book of Rachel)

By |February 13th, 2018|Interesting, Writings|

(Click Here for Act I)


(Act III) The Fence 


“TELL ME YOUR NAME!” – He yells at me in the most intimidating voice I have ever heard. He has a heavy accent that’s hard to make out but sounds European. His rifle is pegged in the back of my neck as I look down with my eyes shut tight, on my knees and hands on my head as any captured individual would.


I feel the barrel shaking with every question he shouts – “WHERE YOU FROM?”, “WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?”“ANSWER ME OR I WILL SHOOT!”


My heart is pounding with fear; my body is numbed, his voice begins to fade, I am waiting for the loud bang and be killed. It’s dark and cold. I wait for it… and then, lights out.


My life passes before me. I am riding my bicycle in the street where I grew up. I am a boy. I fall. I feel myself being tossed around. I hear the fainted sound of metal clanking and rattling. Everything hurts. Then, all goes quiet and dark.


“Hello?” – “Can you hear me?” – “Squeeze my hand if you can hear me.”

(How can I go from hearing the voice of the devil to hearing the voice of an angel?)  Her voice is so soothing. I can smell her sweet scent. She immediately gives me hope. If I died, I have gone to heaven, and all will be ok. — I squeeze her hand — I can’t open my eyes yet. Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I am afraid this is a trap. She might be one of them. I can’t feel my legs. Maybe I am paralyzed. “Good job!” – “You can hear me!”


I take a deep breath and slowly open my eyes. I am laying down on a hard bed. It’s cold. And there she is standing before me, writing something on a sheet of paper. She is wearing all white with something on her head. She must be a doctor or a nurse. She is beautiful. She reminds me of someone I once knew. My head hurts.


“You woke up! – I am Sarah, can you say anything? – It’s ok if you can’t. You are badly hurt. You barely made it”.


(Where am I? How did I get here?) – I muster up the strength to talk. I begin to feel my body. Everything hurts.


“You’re in a church. Here is where we care for the wounded. It’s one of the only places still standing. You were brought here by an elderly couple who were fleeing and found you on the side of the road bleeding. You lost a lot of blood. You have been in and out of a coma for several days. We had to bring you back twice. What’s your name?”


I don’t know. I can’t remember. My head hurts bad. I don’t know what happened. I remember bits and pieces. I remember an old falling down fence on a hill with overgrown grass. I remember seeing a desolate town. It’s all I remember.


“You had a lot of money in your pockets when they brought you here. It’s a foreign currency. Not sure to be honest. We saved your clothes. They’re strange looking. You must not be from around here. You were not captured, or you would be dead. All those who are captured are killed. Whoever did this to you, did not want to kill you. They did not even go through your pockets. You were hit several times in the back of the head with a blunt object and beaten. You need to rest. We have to get you back to health and find out who you are and send you home to your family. You must have a family. We also found an old torn photo in your pocket. You were standing with someone, but they’re ripped out. Get some rest. You will need it.”


There are ten beds here, and I am the only patient here. Shouldn’t there be more patients? This makes no sense.


“You are the last survivor. Everyone else is dead. The war has taken everyone with it. Please. Rest. You need —–“


Then it happens.


The building begins to shake  – debris is falling from the ceiling, feels like an earthquake, Sarah looks up, her arms out trying to balance. It’s getting louder. I can’t run. I am still weak. There’s a thunderous sound, and with it, the entire front wall collapses creating a huge hole before me. I see a city destroyed. I see a fallen cross which must have been on top of the building. My bed shifts to the left and all other beds shift with it. The building feels like it’s going to collapse. It stops. All goes quiet. Sarah is gone.


(Click here for Act IV)


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About the Author:

"We spend our lives dwelling on yesterday and wishing for tomorrow but forget the gift of today. Today is all we have." P.A.A.