The Hue of Betrayl

He gleefully squealed with laughter as he dodged away from the wave which launched his way. Cars continued to rip through puddles alongside the pavement paying no attention to the furrowed brows of passer-by’s. The swastikas flying high were impolitely ruffled as vehicles sped past them. Together, two boys charged through the scornful streets. They raced with such vigour that their afflictions seemed to dwindle behind, unable to keep pace with such proud autonomy. One raced ahead of the other, carving a path of vivacity through the fast greying air. A little trooper. The other trailed behind slightly, slowed by the repetitive glances over his shoulder, the small cracks in his short-lived liberation. Eventually, they began to slow, fatigue finally catching up to them as their lungs began to heave for breath. Doubled over, they grinned at each other with pink flushed cheeks and ruthless smiles. The sound of their laughter intrusively drove against the veil of quiet which smothered the hum of the streets. This rebellious act seemingly warranted the disdainful glances and huffs of people hurrying by.

Sweating profusely, jackets and bags were discarded as the boys continued to gasp for air. As ones back was turned, the other seized the moment and booted an upsurge of murky water towards the apathetic figure. He let out an antagonized howl as the glacial water stung his skin; the dismal brown of the liquid engulfed the once pure shirt, staining it with a hue of betrayal. The young figure whipped around and charged at the other, who was too busy collapsing into mirth to notice. The children descended into a riot of limbs and laughter. Their divergent happiness seemed to encompass the playful children - one last vain attempt to preserve the little innocence left on those streets.

As the sombre sky faded to a deeper shade of grey, the pace of the streets began to quicken. People pulled hats down tighter, coats in closer, shoes clacked on the floor faster and faster, all pushing towards the small comfort that still resided in familiar homes. As the number of people shuffling past them lessened, the boys began to collect their few belongings. One quick glance to the peeking moon was all the smaller of the two needed to embark on his hasty scurry back to whence he came. The other took his time, squeezing every last drop of freedom out of these last moments that he could. As he cast his eyes down towards the whereabouts of his home, he did not feel drawn there as others appeared to. Instead, a dull hatred reverberated through his very bones as he envisioned dragging himself over the threshold once again. Just as he came to stand, a flash of colour caught his eye. He leant down, glad of anything that would stall his return home. Upon further inspection, it revealed itself to be a badge, a yellow star-shaped badged with words too worn to make out. He had seen it before somewhere. This was the badge usually stuck firmly to his friend’s lapel, was now lying discarded in the mud. Straightening up with the badge clutched firmly in his fist, he again glanced towards his home. However, his eyes slowly drifted to the overcast road which his comrade had struggled to scramble up. And with a glance down at the star he made up his mind, beginning a slow amble in the wake of his friend.

Each step he took seemed to sound out heavier than the last, the echo pounding up the street and trailing off into the dusk. His shallow breaths unevenly rasped ahead of him before trailing off into a sickening silence. Water was dripping somewhere. The faint tapping sound seemed to bounce off of every wall and begin to converge closer in. As he glanced over to the crumbling houses, which lined the streets like decaying battlements, light beamed down from various windows, casting immense, looming shadows. They seemed to claw their way down into the street and hungrily swipe at him as he hurried by. As he continued to increase his pace, the terrain descended into unfamiliarity, causing him to puzzle. Whirling whispers of the wind snaked around his ankles, up, up, leaving a trail of tremors coiling around his torso. Clouds of confusion tussled and grappled their way across his eye line as if evading a fast approaching hunter, desperate to preserve themselves. His sharp intakes of breath heaved through his skull like horrendous gusts of wind and scatter his thoughts throughout his head. Their shrill shrieks pierced his ears as they blew away, leaving gaping holes of bewilderment in his conscious.

He desperately tried to heave himself back to reality, arms wrapping around himself in the hopes of a vague sense of familiarity. Eventually, he sank down against an abrasively rotting wall, eyes firmly sealed shut. His attempt to slow his breathing was in vain as the street appeared to pull in closer around him. His eyes darted left, right, left, then right again in the hopes of finding a certain landmark. Something metallic glinted under the morose moonlight. Barbed wire sliced off into the distance, glinting maliciously as it went.  A monolithic wall rose up out of the ground, surrounding a ghetto with an impenetrable boundary. And most noticeably of all, stamped harshly on the front of the wall, the star of David, matching the one the boy currently gripped. Only a few hundred meters before him lay the barbed entranceway, poised as if waiting for an attack. He had never dared sneak this close before, only had he ever witnessed his companion slip in through the gate. These areas were forbidden - taboo even. The sheer size of the camp crushingly overwhelmed him, causing him to stagger back from the sizeable wall. Surveying the vast structure, with its many defences, he dejectedly pondered how he could attempt to surpass the entranceway. Slowly, the poor boy became lost in thought as he perplexed through ideas on how to enter the area, so much so that time began to whisk past, paying the young boy no care.

Judging by the height of the moon in the sky, his curfew had long since rolled past. By this point, having lost any trace of hope, the boy, feeling smitten, turned on his heel and traipsed back towards his home. He wondered what his parents were thinking as they attempted to deduce his whereabouts. Where they angry? Worried? Relieved? This last thought pumped his bloodstream with bitterness. In fact, he wondered whether they had even bothered to spare him a second thought. Bitter thoughts riled through him as he fumed silently. He was so consumed with resentment that the shadows shrank away from him tentatively, slinking back towards their origin pining all the way. Where he had once scuttled timidly, he now marched back through without a care, gripping the star in his hand so tightly that it is a miracle it did not burst into non-existence.

Fuelled by the exasperation of a quest incomplete, he huffed darkly and glared out into the darkness. Then there it was. A hand. On his arm. Hard. He froze, and in that second, so did time. He turned his eyes down to rest upon the firm hand gripping his arm. Following the arm up, a towering character shrouded in the dusk. A rough mane covered all but his frosted eyes, which seemed to be obsessively fixated on the star of fading yellow peeking out of the youth’s fist. He watched with paralysing fear as the bulging eyes traced between the barbed perimeter in the distance and the little peek of yellow that seemed to shine blindingly. From the badge, to the boy, to the boundary. Badge, boy, boundary. And finally, the now enraged eyes came to lie directly level with his.

As their gazes aligned, he had never felt such incapacitating terror. Such stupefying horror. For those eyes seemed to betray a perverted smirk of malice unmatched by anything he had previously been unfortunate to witness. It was as if roots of trepidation had buried him onto the spot, unable to escape those eyes. Slowed by mere dread, a fist clumsily swung towards his contorted face as he fearfully surveyed his attacker. And then darkness.

His body convulsed violently as a boot made contact with a ribcage, beginning to cause it to splinter. The wall behind him shook with dust and sorrow as more hurt was ousted into the cold air. The sky trembled as it observed the pitiful scene, threatening to crack open from heartbreak. The cries stabbed out into the night, but the night paid no heed – for it had heard it all before.

Eventually, his pain ceased, leaving in its place an anguish so deep that it threatened to consume him. And yet he did not move. A warm trail of blood flowed down his face and into his mouth. It left a tangy metallic zing as it continued to pool down and out into the street. A single teardrop escaped his eye and torpedoed towards the ground, where it promptly detonated. Sharp pricks of cold began to land over his crumpled body. The ground began to shiver uncomfortably, its surface lightening. Gentle flakes of snow were being carried down on a lilting breeze, swirling eagerly, elegantly, entrancingly towards their demise.