Inside the camp
My insides screech in pain. I feel empty. Like all the bone and muscle and blood and food, that once filled my body, have been swept from me. Like my soul is trying to escape, and the only lock I have on it was the tiny amount of hope that I have covered deep in my heart, the hope that one day, some one, someone great and powerful, will come and take us from this place, return us to our homes and remove the petrifying memories that return us to this world of utter torture. But that hope is over shadowed. How could someone, anyone over power the malicious soldiers that are guarding everywhere? Every fence, every wall, every hut is guarded by the soulless men, no not men, devils. A human could never cause so much pain, so much fear that everyone that sees them trembled from head to toe and hid in the shadows, wishing that they are dead.
A foul stench wrenches at my nose every day. The smell of burning flesh hangs over the camp constantly, an unmovable cloud that lingers everywhere. You can taste it to, the smoke. It doesn't taste like normal spoke though, there's no way of describing it.
Life is so hard here, how can anyone want to survive? My family and friends are long gone, killed because of the faith we believe in, the god that we worship, killed for just being who we are. Every day I feel the pain, mental and physical. People sit, rotting away in the middle of the passageways, too weak to move just waiting for death. Every night when I'm just about to sleep, I hear children screaming, having terrible nightmares. But for those of us who are old enough to understand what is happening we don't need to sleep to be in a nightmare, we are already living in one. The children don't understand what's happening. They think all this is their fault; that they did something wrong and now their being punished.
All we can do is hope. Hope that death comes soon. I think id prefer death to freedom. Death is easy, peaceful. Living is harder; the memory of this would burn my brain for eternity.
