Over The Fence
Part 1: The Boy's Temporary Paradise
A/N: THIS WAS NOT BASED OFF OF PRISONER/PAPER PLANE! I had a dream a couple days before my term 1 writing exam that I was a prisoner in a concentration camp and fell in love with a girl that was on the other side of the fence. It was a really strange dream for me and at the time I was feeling really happy and somehow had a really sad dream where I die in the end, I woke up crying for the first time. I learned a bit about vocaloids a little before this all happened but I only knew Hatsune Miku doing the Ievan Polka thing with the leek. That was the only song I knew by any vocaloid at the time. I wrote this for my term 1 exam and based it purely off of my dream. I then seperated it into two seperate parts so we can see both sides of the story. Around a week or two after I learned about the songs Prisoner/Paper Plane and it felt slightly nostalgic, it was like I was realiving the dream with some of the parts altered and snipped out. Anyways, I finally got it typed up at home and I am ready to share it with you! This is edited to fit Rin and Len's appearance, in the actual dream it was a brunet boy and a black haired girl. Anyways, enjoy the first part of it.
Exam Prompt: Write a short narrative or essay about challanges.
Edited by Fashionpoetry
It hurts. It hurts to know that you are chained to a place and destined to die. It hurts to not have a family. It hurts to be a prisoner. And it hurts; it hurts to be a prisoner without knowing what you did. I sit here, head in knees trying to remember what was it that brought me here, why was I here? It's always the same, I can't remember, it will always be my earliest memories of my earliest pain and earliest questions. What was I before this? A sudden voice broke my thoughts.
"Hello."
I look up; there standing behind the wire fence that keeps me trapped like a bird in a cage is a girl, a girl in a white dress. She had blond hair down to her neck; she couldn't have been a year older than me. Her head was adorned with a white hat with a wide pink string wrapping its way around the hat. The dress was white with simple felt shoes. It must be nice to wear shoes.
"Hi" I say meekly, water is scarce for prisoners, "how did you get on the other side of the fence?"
"What do you mean? My home is on this side."
"Won't you get in trouble?"
The girl looked at me blankly; I could feel my cheeks getting red.
"Maybe," she finally spoke, "will you?"
I smiled and looked at her "Maybe."
The girl had to go back home, why are my cheeks red? Will she come back? If she comes back will we get caught? What if I don't remember what we talk about? Why do I want to know? Why can't I get her out of my head? Is this what they called friendship? Love? My emotions all melted and mixed together into a puddle of muck.
"Hey Kid! Time to go back to your cell!" it was the warden. I did as he said, If I didn't he would beat me until I couldn't move. I have to be able to move, I can't see the girl in the white dress if I can't move. The cell was small, maybe it would have been big for a single person, but for ten people it was cramped. I was the last one in; I got the last available space, a small corner that I had to curl up the same was as before the girl in the white dress came. If I didn't do that it would be the other prisoners beating me, telling me to keep to myself.
"There's nothing to do!" The prisoner beside me complained. The warden eyed him aware of the prisoner's ignorance.
"Here, write stories, draw, do whatever with these, just shut up!" The warden shouted with cruelty. The prisoner who complained had no hands; he couldn't write or draw or anything! Would he break? He did.
"Paper? Pencils? I can't use this!" He shouted. The warden's evil grin widened, it sort of reminded me of the girls smile only his had an evil feeling around it, hers was beautiful and inviting.
"Get the gas chamber ready! We have a retaliating prisoner!" the warden shouted gleefully towards the end of the hall, where there lies men in strange suites that bring people to a room only the people they bring, never come back. Our handless inmate was dragged by the arms of the two strange suites, screaming and kicking, trying to break free. My whole life I've seen this process, speak up and disappear into the dark room. None of us feel sympathetic for him; we're more so glad that we have more room until they throw someone else in this rotting coffin box. We all knew what was come to us eventually; we'd stay here our whole lives and die without anybody caring. My eyes flickered to the space our inmate had occupied, the pencil and paper were still there. Why didn't the warden take them? I grabbed them hastily before anybody else grabbed them.
I don't know why but for some strange reason I knew how to read and write. Maybe I learned it before I forgot who I was. I first noticed it when I spotted some letters engraved into the wall; they said 'help me.' I stared at the blank piece of paper, not knowing what to do with it. I decided to fold it, again and again, side to side, back to front. It looked quite peculiar; it had a small point at the tip that turned into a thin triangle and protruded two larger ones on the side. It had a small third and somewhat thicker piece I grabbed onto. I unfolded it and decided to write what I would say tomorrow.
We can't speak to each other so next time you come bring a pencil and we'll walk like this.
I felt my cheeks heat up, I ignored it and folded the paper back up; saving it for the next time I saw her.
She came back, the moment she stopped walking I threw the odd paper object over the fence, it fell short of the girl's feet. She bent down, read the message and smiled. She then drew a pencil from her pocket. We had a good deal of conversations; I don't know how long we've been doing it now. When I ran out of paper she started bringing some from her home. Those paper planes as she called them were my treasure, my reason to live.
Every single wishful thought I had would become the truth if it was written down on one of the planes. Today I would meet her at our usual spot. I walked out and sat in the position I'm most comfortable with, head in knees and arms wrapped around my legs. I waited, she hadn't come yet, maybe she forgot to bring a piece of paper and went back to get one? I waited longer, she still didn't come. The minutes turned into hours, hours turned into days. I stopped waiting for her; she was gone, leaving me behind with only the paper planes to remember her by. Sometimes I'd look past the fence and over the horizon like I was expecting her to show up, I know that it wasn't going to happen but I kept doing it; it made me feel at ease. I kept the paper airplanes in the corner of my cell, nobody really minded them.
One day I decided to stay in the cell during the day instead of outside like I normally would, I felt like reading our past conversations. Her writing was really choppy and hard to read, I wondered if her hands trembled a lot. I didn't mind it though, it was unique, it was hers. A tear formed in the side of my eye, how long had it been since I cried? As far as I could remember I was crying for something, someone. I cried out all my tears back then, at least I thought I had. They wouldn't stop, it was like falling rain, it was endless. "Well, well, well, look at what we have here," A sinister voice that could have only belonged to the warden quipped, "The data we have on you says you never cry. What? Miss your girlfriend? Well guess what, she's never coming back, she's gone and I made sure of it myself!"
My eyes widened when he told me this, he knew about him and the girl in the white dress and made her leave to boot? No, he was much too cruel for that. I was overwhelmed by the realization, he killed her. He killed her! The thought kept on repeating itself in my mind. Before I realised it I was running at him, what was I doing? I was punching him, over and over again; I made him feel the pain that she must've felt when he killed her. He was too evil to give her a quick, painless death let alone just making sure she doesn't come visit me anymore! He tortured her, killed her bit by bit slowly and painfully!
"Retaliating prisoner! Retaliating prisoner! Get him off of me!" He shouted. I didn't care what was going to happen to me, I was going to kill him no matter what. I could see some of the white suited people running down the hall; I wasn't done with him yet, leave me alone! I tried to punch the warden again but something held me back. I could see white gloves holding my wrist firmly. "What do you want to do with him boss?" One of the white suited men said.
"Throw him in with the rest of the ignorant pigs in the gas chamber, use the most painful poison you can find." He said smugly, he won and he knew it. My whole body went limp, I let them drag me towards the dark room, I had nothing left to fight for, I was nothing. Dirt had a higher value then I did. They threw me into the dark room sprawled on my back; this was where I would let everything end.
I didn't care what happened to me at this point, I was a goner. My chest hurt so much, was it from losing? For crying for the first time in years? Was it because I now knew why I never saw the girl in the white dress again? Was it because I would never see her again? What was her name? I only knew her as the girl in the white dress. I knew her as the girl on the other side of the fence.
My eyes finally got used to the darkness of the room; they were watery for some reason. I could see other people, hear other people. Some of them were crying, others were screaming. I learnt what was so painful pretty fast. My lungs were burning; it felt like they were on fire. I couldn't breathe. I tried to scream but nothing came out. The burning sensation inflamed my whole body now; it was like I was on fire. Then I saw it, a bit of torn paper from one of the paper airplanes. I reached out to it and clutched it with a weak grip. 'Please god, let me see her one last time,' was all I remembered before everything went black.
Theres part 1 and the dream I had, part 2 was completely made up on the top of my head during the exam to put more emphasis onto the prompt.