A Letter

A women writes a letter to her fellow prisoner.

To who ever may have the misfortune of reading this,

 

It is truly and utterly a sad and misfortunate story that I have lived. I don’t know you, but I know what you are going through, and I just hope you believe that it is I writing to you and no they, and I hope that you read everything I am writing to you. This pencil is the one thing that I have come to sneak past them, and perhaps this may be the final time that I am able to write to you.

 

This is a story of my life. An autobiography I suppose. I hope that you escape and are able to share this, because I know that my days here are now becoming limited.  They are now depleted to the bare minimum, and one day, and you may, or not notice, I will be only a memory to the dead. They will take me as they have taken

 

I was born in Sweden, 2012. It was almost always sunny, as far as I can remember. My parents, my sister and I lived out on the land. It was beautiful and to this day, I still imagine myself back home, standing on top of that unbalanced chair, looking through the back windowpane into the backyard. Just wishing that I could look at it just once more. The beautifully grown grass, the sultry green tree’s that were scattered around the fields, some as being carriers of the delicious fruit that grew, and they always left a perfect amount of room in the back. Enough for my sister and I to play around in. but as I recollect my memories I always come to this one memory. The memory of the hills, and the hills were my absolute favourite. Chances are you have never been to Sweden, because there aren’t many left who reside there, but all is to say is they were outstanding. One reason being that Sweden was known for their smooth, but lumpy landscape. My daydreaming eyes can still remember them. They weren’t too high but they were wide, wide enough to cover most of the fields. and Almost every Sunday, my family and I would travel to the nearest and tallest hill surrounding us, and we would sit on the peak for only a few minutes, watching the sun disappear out of existence. I wish you could see it as I remember it. It’s almost as if it were a dream compared to days of the present. It was so peaceful. So calming.

 

I can remember the day it all started, well maybe not how everyone else remembered it, but I have my own memories of it. My own memories of how my parents spoke so ill of what was happening across seas, in the other countries. The memories of the darkness that fell upon myself every time I had the displeasures of hearing of it, and trust me it was almost always constant. Even though my parents tried to keep my sister and I away from news such as that, we still knew about it and its not like it wasn’t displayed around every corner you passed. It was hard trying not to see it as it was shown constantly in the papers, the news and on all medians. They were calling it “the third world war” and some were even referring to it as the “modern day holocaust”. Even though those times were horrible, it didn’t seem to affect us much. Well it didn’t seem to affect my sister and I much, which was probably because we were young and didn’t have to worry about it reaching our home. But obviously I was wrong because it happened. Because that’s when the warning’s started, it was hard to avoid them. The first time that they went off my parents took us out into the nearest town for a little supper treat and in a split second sirens were going off. I had no idea what was going on but my parents knew,  I could see it in their expressions, and I could tell that they were scared. At first the noise scared me too. It was very loud and the sounds began on and off in very abrupt and impacting beats. Piercing the homes and citizens of the small town that lived near us. Soon we were all guided by the towns police to reside back into our homes, they told us that they were only just “warning’s”, nothing we should have been alarmed about. But most of us were. I could see that they were, as they scattered about, packing and gathering their belonging in a hurried manner as they scurried back into their homes. They were worried about what might happen.

 

It didn’t last long though because soon it stopped, the fear I mean. Weeks had passed and there was no sign of a response to the warning sirens that had gone off, and now that I think of it, maybe that’s what they wanted from us. They wanted to put the fear into us, just so it could fade, for it to only leave us in a vulnerable state weeks later and if that was their tactic it was a pretty good one because it worked pretty well. For instance, I remember our family didn’t go back into town for the first 2 weeks due to the fear that it brought upon my parents. I guess they were scared of what may have happened to us if the “warnings” weren’t only just warnings, but something more severe and real. Though as the days passed us by we began to forget about the sirens, just as the town’s people had, and soon, as most things had, it became a thing of the past.

Author's Note

Let me know what you think. thank you!