Tell A Tale in 500 Words

I'll Take You Far Away By Melissa Boyd

“I’m scared.”



I looked over my shoulder at my sister whose eyes glistened with tears that threatened to spill out over her rosy cheeks. There wouldn’t be much use in telling her that her fear was irrational. It would make me a hypocrite. Besides, there was no use in pretending, everyone was scared these days. People rarely went out anymore but if they did happen to be brave enough to venture out beyond the sanctuary of their homes they never went unaccompanied. That would be reckless. That would make you an easy target. We’re like sitting ducks, like rabbits caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck that showed no sign of stopping or slowing down and seemed destined to crush us if we didn’t act fast. But the truck was getting closer and our feet remained glued to the floor, our eyes wide open with fright at the prospect of our imminent death.



No.



Don’t think like that.



“Me too.”



My reply seems blunt with no resemblance of sympathy for her fear, but it’s better like that. I would be selfish if I broke down in front of her. After all I’m supposed to be the strong one, I’m supposed to be the one that’s going to get us out of this nightmare that doesn’t end when you wake up in the morning.



“Why do they want to hurt us?” she asks quietly.



“Because we’re different.” I reply.



They had already taken our parents – our parents who had fought so valiantly alongside so many others with the goal of achieving our freedom – and we were next. I move over to where she’s sat on the sofa, sitting gingerly beside her where she immediately nestles into me like I can make everything better again. My arms find their way around her small body, my fingers entwine themselves within her soft blonde hair and I am reminded too harshly that, despite her innocence and naivete, she too is marked for the same fate as me.



“It’s not fair,” her voice is muffled as her mouth is pressed against my stomach but I hear the sadness in her voice as clear as the birdsong on a fresh spring morning.



“I know.”



Nothing was fair. I had come to terms with that long ago after the failure of the revolution on which we had pinned so many of our hopes. Change had been closer than it had ever been before; we had tasted what it truly felt to be free and become addicted to it just as it was so cruelly snatched from underneath us. All of that sacrifice, all of that bloodshed, and for what? We remained trapped within our home, within ourselves.



I held my sister to my chest and began to hum a soft lullaby to soothe her as I felt her tears soak through my shirt.



“Tomorrow is another day, tomorrow we’ll be far away, I’ll take you far away from here, I’ll take you far away from fear...”


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