The light. I was raised to know that the light is my enemy. I lived in the darkness my whole life. I was born in darkness. I was raised in darkness. I was born from darkness. The cart bumps shakily on the bumpy road. I bang my head on the roof of my box. Pain swells in my head, but I choose to ignore it. I can hear other people in the wagon moan in pain, hunger, thirst, sadness, or death.
Whether it is the stench of a rotting body, human waste, or the musty odor in the air, my eyes can't stop watering. To my left I see a girl with glazed eyes staring into nowhere; she must be dead. You can blame her you know, she suffered six days without any food, water, or sunlight.
Today was the sixth day of living in this awful cart, we surely must be reaching Tulshire.
"Mommy, I'm hungry."
"Yes, darling, we all are."
I can't help but look at the direction the mother and child were at. The child was sitting at his mother's feet, clinging to her legs. I feel sorrow in my chest, and stiffle a cough.
All of the sudden, the cart comes to a stop.
The cart hasn't stopped in six days. We are all suprised. The sound of footsteps approaches us, and the creak of the door of the cart opens. Light pours in, blinding our naked eyes. The light was white, bright, and warm.
And I was terrified.
