Beyond Enclosure

Our country has always been split in two - the lefties and the righties. Whilst people go around using this to describe the hand they write with, it's different for us. Because those two words mean more than you could ever imagine. // A story about the power of love in a society where differences aren't accepted.


4. Chapter Three


Shoving my hands into my pockets, I walk across the park at a steady pace. My body begins to droop from the half an hour or so I've already done, and my mouth dries with every breath. If just I'd brought a drink.

The sun is beginning to set, the reds, the oranges and the yellows merging together in what is a beautiful sunset. I find myself watching, waiting for the moment the sun disappears behind the horizon and I'll be pitched into darkness. But it'll be a while yet.

Reaching a side road, I cross to the other side, sneaking down the path that leads directly to my house (but not before passing the wall). It's my favourite part of the journey, when I'm on my way home and I can take that five minutes of my day to just stand amidst the trees and stare, stare at what lies ahead.

Crouching behind the bushes, I peek over at the land before me. Since it happened, this has always been a special spot for me. Somewhere where I feel out of place, yet also at home. Perhaps that's how I've always felt.

But it's different now. It's been years since the brave attempt of someone climbing the wall took place, and it's only been hours since another man tried. After one person thinks they can do it, the whole nation does. So the Government has reenacted the law of having security guards lining the wire fences before the wall, armed with guns, clothed in army gear. Anyone who dares to go within a metre of them is pointed at with a gun, and surrendering, I've seen many run away into the shadows.

It's scary, I have to admit, but most of all it's sad. It's sad that you no longer have the freedom to just stare at the wall and wonder, without the guards closing up on you. They approach you within minutes, asking you all these damn questions (trust me, it's happened before). And I hate it. I hate that I'm not allowed to look at something that's mine as much as it is theirs. In fact, I'm more annoyed that I can't even see or feel or hear or have anything to do with half of my own country. Sometimes I wish I could go back in time to when I witnessed the first attempt to climb the wall, when the land before me was deserted. But mostly I wish I could just see what life was like before the wall, before our society was destroyed.

Shaking my head in disapproval, I push myself up off the ground and head back down the path. Huddling against myself, I try to fight off the ongoing winds, but it's impossible. As the trees close in around me, the air closes in around me, and it's only within a matter of minutes before the dark wraps itself around me like a blanket.

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