Here and There

I scream louder. Or at least I think I do.

He covers my mouth, I try to bite. No good.

My vision’s blurry and the surrounding sounds are muffled.

I shouldn’t have cursed at Mom. I shouldn’t have run away but because of my constant stupidity, I’m all alone and being attacked by a total stranger.

He tosses me to the ground. He kicks my side and strikes my back with hard fists. It hurts but surprisingly not so bad. It probably would’ve hurt a lot more if I weren’t drunk. Thankfully the pain is somewhat bearable but I still hurt.

The world’s spinning as I crawl through the dirt in that poor, dimly lit alley. It’s beginning to slightly rain, and I could feel wet dirt building beneath my fingernails. I feel a broken bottle (probably something I just drank and tossed aside) on the ground. I grasp it with my wet hand and with whatever sober thought I have, I thrust it into his chest.

He grunts and moans, holding his bloody chest. He curses at me before running away in pain.

I can’t see him. My mind is blurry and so are my eyes but I know he’s gone for good.

All of this could’ve been imagined but I know it’s real because the pain is real.

I’m trying to stand but being so drunk I lose my balance and can’t feel the pain as my head smacks a concrete wall. That’s when I go out cold. The world is fading away, followed by the sound of falling rain.

BOOM!

I awake to hurried voices. I’m lying on my side and facing a smooth wall. The voices of children are hurrying behind me. A sound of a woman hushes them and urges them to hide quickly. I turn slowly and see three little children. I can’t tell who they are or where they come from but one thing is evident: they all look terrified.

The woman, I believe to be their mother, forces them to the area where I stand and amazingly they just go right through me. “What’s going on?” I ask but no response. They can’t see or hear me. Am I a ghost?

The four of them are in a state of panic. The children seem to be no older than 12 years; the youngest appearing to be about five and the mother looks to be in her mid-thirties. They are dark-skin, greatly sun-tanned. They wear what seems to be clothing and shoes made of buckskin. There’s not a doubt in my mind that these people are Native Americans – just like I am.

The mother lifts the very bottom of what I realize to be a tepee and one by one the children crawl out. I don’t know what to do but my instincts tell me to stay with the woman, so I do.

The sound of screams, cries and hoots can be heard from beyond this dwelling, as if others were running around in frenzy. Chilling sounds of gunshots can be heard and the cries began to increase. The loud explosions continue to blast too.

I stand and watch the woman doing her best to gather supplies into what seems like a dusty handmade bag. She rushes to the opening of the tepee but to our surprise a long, thick and hairy arm shoves her back in. Frighteningly, a gun appears, aimed at the defenseless woman’s head. Along with her, I freeze and hesitate to move an inch.

“Well, well, well what do we have here?” a soldier said. He appears to be stocky and very broad shouldered and has a nasty grin. He’s in a blue soldier’s uniform and seems to be unshaven for weeks. “Looks like I found me a squaw!”

The woman frantically speaks and begins to stumble before the soldier with his steady gun. It’s obvious that she’s begging for her life. The soldier gives a spine-chilling stare at her as if she’s absolutely nothing, just some wild animal that needs to be taught a lesson. The woman is petrified, her eyes widen, and she trembles with fear. I continue to stand with my hands in the air surrendering, as if it would help, not knowing what to do.

The soldier shuts the entrance and dashes onto the woman. She kicks and screams but the man is too strong and relentless. He keeps the gun held to her head making sure he’s still in control. He forces her to turn around, facing the opposite direction, then seizes her by the hair and I realize what he’s about to do.

Her screams start to pierce my senses deeply. Not in my craziest dreams could I ever imagine such agonizing acts of brutality before me. He throws her body from side to side like a ragdoll. Overwhelmingly I begin to pull my hair, trying desperately to figure out what to do, but everything I do has no effect. I know if I go outside and call for help, it would be useless. I can do nothing but witness this woman being hackled and trampled on. My stomach begins to turn and I begin to feel a sense of disgust.

The woman continues to scream, begging for the soldier to stop – but he proceeds with a devilish grin. She desperately holds on to whatever sanity and dignity she has left, as do I. I pray, wish, and hope that she didn’t have to go through any of this.

As if that’s not enough, he begins to beat her senseless, both with his free hand and his gun. She did everything to defend herself with whatever strength she had left but the soldier’s blows were too great and unstoppable.

I find myself on the ground beside her, screaming and demanding him to leave her alone! My cries are silent, ignored, tossed aside by his cruel authority. I pray for him to stop and I pray for her to be strong. Just like me, she appears to be practically invisible like something long to be forgotten.

She lies on the ground motionless, soaked in her blood. For a second, her mangled body seems lifeless. Astonishingly, seconds later she begins to twitch, coughing out thick, warm blood and having difficulty in breathing. Her face is bruised and extremely swollen. Her hair was no longer in tight braids; her clothing torn and the seams unraveling, revealing similar inflictions as seen on her face. It’s evident that her life is hanging merely by a thread.

The soldier sighs with a smile. He holds his head high as if he won some great victory over the woman. He begins to loot the tepee, but finds nothing to his taste. As he moves toward the door, he spits on the poor woman and leaves with nothing but his cruelty and malice.

It’s such a horrific thing to witness someone with all that power and control to abuse someone who has very little. I don’t know if the soldier was drunk or sober but he had nothing but absolute hatred. How can a person violate a human’s body and soul, spit on them, and leave with a smile? The poor woman was treated like dirt, something that’ll just flow with the wind, gone forever. I wish there is something I could do.

I’m beyond horrorstruck and distraught. I find myself uncontrollably in tears, on the ground beside the woman. I don’t know what to do or say. The woman is desperately in need of help but is practically beyond aid. Her face and body are unrecognizable compared to my first encounter with her. Her soft delicate skin and beautiful glossy hair are only a memory. I have the distinct feeling that her frail body will not last long.

I’m pumped with fury, possibly all the rage any human being could ever conjure up. The soldier’s face, his body, his gun, his smile, everything was etched in my mind. I feel like something needs to be done to him, something terrible, but I know that there is nothing that could be done. I feel powerless.

Devastated with unbelievable pain and confusion, the sound of cries and explosions continue beyond the walls of the tepee. I lost all hope but to my surprise, something began to happen that I didn’t expect. The woman began to speak, but very low and weak.

“Please, h-help my ch-children,” she uttered. “Take them to safety and help them understand this n-new world that has come. Don’t let them suffer.” I was shocked that she spoke to me as if she could see me.

She makes another attempt to ask with her last gasp of air, “Please, h-help-.” Seconds later, her body lied motionless. She’s dead.

My lips tremble and a lump begins to form at the back of my throat. All my rage dramatically fades. The tepee’s quiet for a few brief moments. I find myself not strong enough to hold back the tears of pain and grief. For the first time, I can’t control my breathing and I’m growing weak but then I remember her children. I can’t give in and just do nothing. I gather my thoughts and strength to pull myself together. I take one last look around before leaving the tepee and I admire all the strength this woman had in fending for her life.

As I enter the outside world, the entire village is engulfed in flames and cries. Soldiers are invading everything, individuals were being slain left and right, age was no factor. The sorrow seemed to have escaped from the tepee and on to the world. Everything’s inflicted with pain.

Nonetheless, I’ll search for her three children. It is agonizing and unbelievable to see such travesty, especially when seeing children among the dead. Fortunately, the children that I’m searching for weren’t amid the decease.

Although my heart increases with pain, I continue to search while the bodies continue to rise. Evening arose and the stars were veiled through a wisp of clouds. I’m frantically searching high and low but doubt I’ll ever find those children. Suddenly, a sound of a whistle comes from the east. For some reason, my instincts tell me to follow the sound. The whistle has a high-pitched tone like that of a soaring eagle. To my surprise, it leads me directly to the three children I am looking for.

They are huddled together behind a thick brush. Amazingly, through the darkness, the youngest spots me. As I approach, our eyes met, she could see me.

“Listen, the soldiers will be here any second,” I said to her. “We have to get out of here!” On impulse, I reach for her hand and maybe out of trust she accepts it and grasps tightly. I give a quick smile of reassurance before leading the way to safety.

I am able to lead her up a large hill with her older siblings accompanying her. We find ourselves overlooking the burning village. We stop to catch our breaths and the children can’t help but to cry for their village, people, and home being destroyed. I sympathize with her, but urge her to lead them to safety. Altogether we safely approach another village that is miles away from whence we came. The villagers here are welcoming and quickly shelter us. They say their scouts have seen what the soldiers have done to the village. They comment that we are safe here and that if the soldiers were to come, they would be ready for them.

As I wait with the children I can’t help but grasp the concept that the only family they have is with one another. I don’t know if they were aware that their mother is gone but I know her presence is with us.

The youngest one sat on my lap and I begin to tell her that she has to be strong now and that no matter happens, she has to watch over her older siblings just as much as they watch over her. With a confused expression, she asks, “What’s happening?” I reply: “The world is changing and everything is going to be different than the way it used to be. The world is filled with misunderstandings.” She stares at me with glossy eyes, looking uncertain and worried. I begin to reassure her that things will be okay and give her insight about what to expect. She holds me with some comfort as I lean in and kiss her gently on her forehead. I close my eyes and embrace her.

BOOM!

A thunder clashes but the rain is gone. I’m cold, damp, and confused. My sight is coming into focus and I realize I’m still in the dark alley. I feel different. I know I’m not drunk and I’m not pained with anger. My head’s a little sore but don’t have much to complain about. What happened to me?

Slowly, I brace myself with the wall as I try to lift my stiff body off the ground. As I stand here, I gather my thoughts as well as my balance. I look around to re-identify my surroundings. The coast is clear, all is safe. I begin to tread home.

I burst through the door panting, trying to catch my breath. Immediately, I see her sitting at the couch, her face in her hands. I run towards her and for the first time in my life I really want to embrace her for all that she is. She sees me and I kneel down before her. I hug her so tight that I don’t want to let go.

“Mom,” I whisper. “I’m sorry for running out on you. I’ll never do it again.”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry too.” She whispers back and holds me tighter.

I release and stare deeply into her gorgeous eyes for what seems like an eternity. I see a strong and vibrant woman whom I call Mom and I’m proud of it. Regardless of what era people live in, the world will always change. In my mother’s eyes, as well as mine, we both saw misunderstandings. I saw the same thing in the little girl’s eyes. I know the past affects everything but I also know love, understanding, and hope can restore what seems to have been lost.

Overcome with appreciation and joy, I fight the tears and struggle to say to her heart that I love her. But before I could say it, she notices my effort and smiles.

“I love you too.”

Copyright © 2010 by Kerry Iyua
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Whisper n Thunder asked the author to share with our readers how this story came to be, and the exciting news around its publication. We are excited for this young adult and wish him all the best! This is what he shared: