Sep. 25, 2013. 3:32 am
I’m being driven to a place far away.
Through farmlands that look like Tuscany.
I’m dropped off at a very modern mansion.
The type of house you could imagine a modern conservative wealthily family living in.
I’m now part of a group of about a dozen boys.
We do everything together there, everything.
There are two men who watch over us.
Like teachers, one a bit more proactive than the other.
When this one leaves for a time,
The other one has has line up and pose for advertising photographs.
It is only until after this session I notice all the large poster-size images of us printed around the house.
The landscape outside is very foggy. and dewy, and grey.
We’re all in sweaters, simple.
We’re all also of varying ages.
We’re walking back from somewhere, some activity.
Along dirt roads through fields,
and gradually along more complicated areas.
Theres one of us who’s sort of like the leader,
or maybe just because he’s one of the older kids
I’m about fifteen, but we progress I’m gradually younger.
He asks for “The gun”
-“Did anybody bring the gun,”
To my surprise, someone hands him a rifle.
we’re wandering through and area like the condominium my dad lives in,
through a hilly area with lots of trees and layered townhouses.
Then we’re walking though scattered houses.
I realize we’re not going the conventional route
It seems as though we’re anxious because we maybe we’re being followed.
We take to going many alternative ways
going though alleys
and climbing over things
We start to move from wall to wall
from building to building, jotting from one spot to another
as if on a mission.
or rather, as if spotted, we’d be “caught”
At one point he instructs us to slowly and quietly climb over a guys roof.
He seems so calm as if it wasn’t a big deal.
we one by one go up
I remember my hands against the vinyl roof shingles.
I was one of the last few to go up.
"have they heard us?"
One kid goes to peek into the window
“yea, I think so,
they’re looking at the ceiling
I think they’re wondering what’s making the noise…”
He instructs us to continue walking over the rooftop.
“make sure they can hear your footsteps…”
We all try to make our footsteps lightly more prominent.
I remember them sounding similarly to tacks hitting a wooden floor.
I see through the window,
the kid shouts in a whisper:
“I think he’s looking for his gun”
We all scramble and slide off the roof as fast as we can.
at this point my age is younger.
We’re all running as fast as possible to the woods nearby.
I hear the gun shots, but everyone is still around me as we’re running to the though the fields.
Almost everyone has made it to the bushes,
I’m one of the last ones
"Come on!" I shout in my mind;
I turn happy to watch my friend come in through the trees- and he is shot and falls.
I can’t move