Free Imagine by Christiane Shoenhair, Liam McEvilly Page B

thoughts by a scraping against the door; a loud creak is followed by a latch opening at the bottom of the door. A bowl appears, some sort of cereal sloshes around inside. I decide that I might as well try it, I am so hungry and who knows when they plan on feeding me again. The cereal is still crisp and the milk cold, I scoff it down, as though I hadn’t eaten in days. I take 3 or 4 bites before my eyes start to feel tired and my limbs heavy as I crash to the ground and pass out.
    When I wake up I am being jolted around on the open back of some sort of wagon, on a very bumpy road, my hands are bound loosely in front of me with a rope. My entire body aches from hitting the floor back in my cell and lying on the wooden boards of this cart, for I don’t know how long.
    I can feel another body pressed up against mine and when I manage to turn my head I find that Chelsey is laying next to me, still sound asleep. She must have fallen for the contaminated cereal trick too.
    I just lay there quietly for a moment and listen to her breathing . I notice that we are on some trail surrounded by tall dark trees. It’s a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky. The trees provide some shade, but I still have to squint from the sun to really be able to see what’s around me.
    It’s a very bumpy ride, we are constantly hitting rocks that make the wagon, and our bodies, bounce around like puppets on strings. I notice that there are three men in the front wagon. The driver is tall and has dark brown hair, he is thin and wearing a brown shirt that looks home-made. Next to him sits Eddie, dressed in a similar fashion. Sitting with his back to the cab and with his eyes firmly on us is Keagan. He is clutching a musket, a gun from the civil war era (See Mr. Monous, I DID pay attention, sometimes!)
    At that very moment we turn a corner on the dirt road. We slow down considerably and I can make out a few small buildings with thatched rooftops, I think that we are coming up on some sort of small village.
    I actually wonder if we have stepped into some sort of alternate universe. From what I can make out, this village is nothing like I’ve ever seen before. The houses with straw roofs also appear to be made of wood, mahogany I think. They all look similar but each one is unique in its own way. For example, some have shutters that are painted different colors, some also have doors that have beautiful deep carvings on them and only some have a porch.
    The craftsmanship on everything is exquisite. I gaze in astonishment at the carvings on some doors that we pass. They all appear to tell different stories. Some show elaborate hunting scenes and some show battles from hundreds of years ago, men fight with suits of armor and swords on horseback. They all have chimneys, blowing out smoke from fireplaces inside.
    P eople in the streets are behaving in the strangest ways, doing things that I did not think existed in this century anymore. I notice two young people about my age, a very pretty blonde girl with freckles across her nose with a boy with dirty blond hair and bright blue eyes. Both of them are dressed the same as the three men on the wagon with us, but they are chained, both to each other and a tree, they are also covered in splatters of blood.
    I see women hanging laundry on lines at the sides of the houses and m en chopping wood. Everyone seems very solemn, hardly anyone looks happy. Children are in the streets but they are not running around or laughing, instead they have their heads bowed as if staring at their feet as we drive by.
    I gasp in horror as I see a man tacking a thin branch across the back of a woman’s hands. Blood is running down her knuckles, but she is not making a single noise.
    I turn t o Keagan with a look of disgust. “What is going on? What is this place?”
    “This is going to be your new home. Be quiet now, you may ask all of your questions when we get to Brother Lorrus, he will e xplain everything to you.” He replies