The Colony

“It’s been years since my time in the colony. It’s hard to think about, let alone talk about it.” I said softly, staring into the eyes of my now grown son. He looks so much like his father. “Please mother? You said you would tell me when I grew taller and stronger.” His eyes glistened as he pleaded with me. I sighed softly and looked away. He was right. He deserved to know. I took a few deep breaths before clearing my throat. “I was still a girl. My whole life had been spent inside the colony. I still remember the smell of fear and death permeating the air. We were not allowed to play, to choose our dressings, not even to speak our own thoughts. I had believed that was normal. Until he arrived. “Who arrived, mother?” He asked impatiently, staring at me and furrowing his brow. “Damien, that impossible man. I remember the day he was brought into the colony. We were on our way to the daily service when two elders walked through the gate, followed closely by several soldiers. Then we saw him. He stood taller than most of the men around him. He was so pale. I swore if it snowed, he would have vanished from sight… …The elders in their dark gray hooded cloaks pushed us aside, giving them room to pass. As they passed by, I got a closer look at him. His hair, though covered by a ratty, ragged hat, looked white, and his eyes. The palest blue, like ice. He looked at me, but instead of feeling fear like I had with other strangers, I felt a sort of calm. I had never been so curious about another person in my whole sixteen years… …They led him into the medical hut. Two soldiers held back to guard the door. I started to step in that direction but was grabbed by the shoulders and pushed back on course. I glanced behind me to see my friend Isaac. He raised his finger to his lips, reminding me to keep quiet. I nodded slowly. He was only trying to keep me from any punishment… …It may seem hard for you to understand, but every mistake came to punishment. Singing the wrong word in a hymn would get you a broken finger, sitting or falling when you are meant to stand ended with 50 lashes of the whip. Stepping out of line? A ten minute beating with a wooden cane.” I stopped talking long enough to take a drink of water, clearing my throat before continuing. “It seems like torture now, but when I was young that was just how it was, and no one dared question it for fear of their lives…” My mind begins to wander as the feelings I've long buried come flooding back. What pulls me back is my son placing his hands on mine, trying to comfort me from my own painful memories. “What about the others?” He pried gently, his voice showing the conflict in his heart. Part of him didn’t want to cause me pain, but the rest of him needed to know. “Gabriel,” I whispered softly, staring into his strong yet gentle eyes. Somehow I felt the strength resonating through him, and it allowed me to find the words for the coming tale of the colony, and more importantly, how we escaped.