Tuesday, October 11th, 2:08 A.M.
It was a Sunday evening. We were all the house. Mom, Dad, Sakoshi, and me. Grandpa wasn't there. I don't know why. We were all at the house. I was Sunday evening. This was Sunday dinner.
Mom had made a splendid meal, a fine roast with
potatoes, corn, and zucchini. Dad had
carved the roast so that each individual slice of meat was hefty yet bite
size. Sakoshi was Sakoshi and he didn't
need to be anything else. I was just
sitting at the kitchen table watching my family as the spoke to one
another. I didn't join in on the
conversation, or say anything at all. I
just listened to everything, and, for a long time, everything I heard I liked.
Then I heard something I didn't like. It was soft at first. Far off in the distance, a sound could barely
be heard by the rest of my family, but, to me, it stood out. Slowly the noises of the conversation went
away as the sound became louder, and louder, and closer. The sound was bootsteps. Many bootsteps. Many bootsteps thumping in unison. This thumping didn't come from only one
direction. The thumping from the
bootsteps, the sound of which was becoming slowly deafening, was coming from
all directions.
Then the thumping stopped and everything became
silent. The conversations had continues
unabated, but I wasn't listening for it.
I was listening for what was going to happen next. Then it happened. The bootsteps started thumping again. This time against doors, windows, breaking,
shattering, destroying. They were
here. The verbrechers were here.
The verbrechers poured into the house and accosted
my family. The verbrechers were brutal
to my family, very brutal to them all.
Ripping, tearing, breaking, shooting, slashing, defiling, murdering, I
saw and heard all of it. Then one of the
verbrechers brought down the butt of his gun on my head.
That is when I woke up. That is when I was able to escape. God.
What is going in my head? Why
can't I stop this, even for a moment, like I did before? Why?
Why? Why?
Hato Shurtleff
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