The Man

The people are still. Their mouths are open, but I can’t hear a thing. Behind them a man comes marching in. He is holding a gun.


One of them is dead.

I wish I could do something, but my feet are stuck to the ground. I can’t watch this.

I try to lift my hands to cover my eyes, but my whole body is frozen. Instead I just try to think of good thoughts.

I remember my dad. Is he dead? I don’t see him in the line. I remember one thing. My dad said that, “I am the luckiest man on earth because I have you.” The thoughts aren’t strong enough, so there is nothing I can do but watch these people die one by one.

One person looks at me and makes eye contact. I can see fear in the person’s eyes and I feel as if these people can hear me. The man turns around, but then turns back and kills the person who looked at me.

I search through all the people and I find my sister in the end of the line. It isn’t really a line. Just a big blob of people. She looks like she is trying to find me in the line. “She can’t see me,” I think. What if she thinks I’m dead? The man looks back at me and he points the gun at me like he sees me, his face is covered, his hand on the trigger.


Everything goes blank. I’m in a room and my sister is there. “The man is our father,” she says. I sink down to my knees and cry out, “HELP!”

No one answers.

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