We wipe that sweat from our eyes as someone lets the wagon drop its load into the hole. Arms and legs flail, faces too young for blemishes. Two hundred or more. Children in our care.
By noon on the second day, the hole gapes three-by-five meters. A three-meter drop to the bottom. Off to one side, the dirt we've removed a shovelful at a time, forty-five cubic meters of torn-up soil, roots and rocks. A monument to the efforts of half a dozen volunteers. We marinate in our own sweat.
We wipe that sweat from our eyes as someone lets the wagon drop its load into the hole. Arms and legs flail, faces too young for blemishes. Two hundred or more. Children in our care.
Sue Clayton
17/12/2022 03:34:34 am
What does this story mean? I'm holding my breath with what I'm thinking. Can't find the words to comment.
Finnian Burnett
22/12/2022 02:00:58 am
Wow! This is brilliant and chilling
Roger
22/12/2022 02:29:42 am
Sounds like they are being buried alive. The volunteers must be pretty evil.
Bob
22/12/2022 06:20:32 am
Was this inspired by atrocities done by the Nazis?
Heidi Stein
13/2/2023 05:39:54 pm
Kamloops Indian Residential School, BC Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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