It is dark, and the world is shaking around me. From the thin holes a strip of light passes from time to time over my battered eyes. I don't remember my mother's eyes, nor my father's face. I feel like I've never had one, I don't know what it's like. I don't know what it's like to have a sister, a brother, a life that's mine.
Suddenly I remember, I am a child, in a smelly and dark caravan, together with other children like me. Alone and battered. None of them say a word or try to comfort others. They don't know what it means to comfort.
I wonder if life is for suffering. I wonder if life is meant to never wake up again, if that is his goal.
The caravan slows down and the beam of light shines on my left arm. Something is printed on my skin, a number, a code of some kind, like on cattle. They are cattle, they are goods to be sold. I'm worth more than cattle, as I can cry louder.
I am naked, dressed only in a dirty and torn rag. Others are like me. Suddenly the caravan slows down and starts shaking stronger than before. The voice of the drivers becomes worried, full of fear, they seem like children.
They too have been children and have cried because they were alone?
I realize that there is something out there, the men outside know it. They draw weapons, but from their hesitant steps I understand that it is something beyond their reach.
Violent thuds, desperate and resigned screams, frightening, unrecognizable verses. Something, perhaps one of the men, is thrown forcefully towards the caravan.
The caravan overturns to one side and we all start screaming. It's the end, I say. Life's goal, peace after the storm, is coming for me.
There is peace, in fact. Nothing is heard, only the gentle puffs of the wind on the trees. Unbeknownst to me, one of the children squeezes my hand so tightly that he seems to melt into mine.
The caravan door is damaged, you can get out, you can go away, but nobody does anything.
Ten minutes go by and there's nothing out there. Men are dead. Although they weren't my enemies, I don't feel the urge to watch their bodies sink into their own blood. I would see dead men furrowing the sky with their last glance.
I step forward and peek out the door. The light hurts my eyes, I'm afraid I won't be able to see anymore. I feel that those men have given me something to make me feel bad, to be weak. At the idea I get furious and slam hard against the door. The children are silently watching me. My hand is still anchored to that other.
With a last effort I manage to get out and fall on the other side. My eyes struggle to get used to it, but after a few moments I can focus on what surrounds me, and I see that on the other side of the hand there is a little girl. She has long, puffy hair and bright tearful eyes, even though she is no longer crying.
She looks at me and tightens her grip even more, I do too. Now our hands are fused, inseparable.
I make a selfish gesture, I start running, without looking back, without thinking about what would happen to the other children still in the caravan. Let's run. Let's run. Let's run...
Something monstrous arises before us. He is one of those monsters, one of those who killed the men in the caravan. They will kill us too. The dream is over, it's time to go back to the dark, this time eternally. The monster observes us, his face is white, twisted into an expression that seems fake, drawn, observes us but does nothing. Only a faint moan comes from his still mouth.
A gash! The creature falls to the ground and dissolves like dust in the air. Someone saved us. Is he a bad man? A good man?
The man looks at us, he has an incredulous look.
"And what are you doing here?" The man said, putting down his sword.
The long-haired girl starts crying, and for some reason I cry too.
The Man takes us with him.