Vineyard

The sun beat down on the workers. Its rays burning their skin. A man pulled down his sombrero, a woman pulled her child near. A girl was working at the far reaches of the vineyard. A caterpillar was crawling up her leg. She gently picked it up and placed it on one of the nearby leaves.

“Go to freedom,” she whispered to it, “Escape from the vineyard.”

The caterpillar, as if it understood what the girl had said, started to crawl away. The girl watched the caterpillar for a moment before shaking her head and picking another bunch of grapes. The caterpillar moved on as it met a ladybug.

“Go to freedom, escape from the vineyard,” the caterpillar whispered to the ladybug. 

And as if it could understand, it flew away. The ladybug’s wings failed it, and the wind carried it away, to a child’s toy. It landed on the little hay doll’s hair. The child looked at the ladybug as if it was to say something.

“Go to freedom,” the ladybug whispered, “Leave the vineyard.” 

And as if the child could understand it crawled away to its mother’s skirt. Were the child pulled and tugged, as if it was to say something. 

“Freedom, leave the vineyard.” The child whispered to its mother. 

And as if the mother could understand, she picked up her child and walked away. Her basket swayed at her hips as she walked to an old man.

As she whizzed passed him she whispered, “Leave the vineyard, to freedom.”

The old man, whose ears had failed a while back, nodded as if to understand. Another wind passed, and the dust flew into the old man’s eyes and the force make him fall down. His feeble bones had yet again failed him. A young man came to his side.

“Freedom, fly away from the vineyard,” he whispered to the young man.

The young man, stood up strong as if to understand the old man’s last words. His basket, too swung along as he moved toward the next cluster of grapes. The overseer walked by to see the old man. He kicked him on the side to see if he was alive. 

As the overseer walked by, the young man whispered, “Fly to freedom, away from the vineyard.”

The overseer stopped for a moment as if he understood before he shook his head and walked away. He walked for a bit of time before he reached, a man who had fallen to the ground. A young boy, not more than a month, lay in his arms. He bent down, to check the man’s pulse, and stood up shaking his head. This was the 13th man this day, production would be slow. 

As he left, he whispered to the babe, “You need to fly, fly far away from here, to freedom.”

And as the babe could understand it whimpered. The babe lay there for a while, for it could not move on its own. He didn’t make a single sound until his mother came running. She fell to the ground, mortified. 

She grabbed her babe, as the babe whispered, “Leave, fly, away to freedom.”

His mother looked up in surprise as if to understand what the babe has just said. She shook as she walked away. Clutching her babe, as it was the last thing she had left. A white dove flew overhead. 

“Fly,” she whispered to the dove, “Freedom is far from this vineyard.”

The dove circled over her as if to understand what she had just said. Its shadow grew smaller as it flew higher into the sky. It flew past the many people working in the fields, the overseer, the young man, and the child and it’s mother to name a few. It flew to the vineyard owner’s beloved daughter who was playing under the shade of a mighty oak, who had more than a few stories to tell. The daughter had attendants right and left, attending to her every need. The dove perched in the tree and watched, as silent as the night. The sun was setting, as the dove flew past the girl.

“Go to freedom,” the dove whispered, “Leave the vineyard.”

The girl looked around as if to have heard what the dove has said. She got up, deciding that it was time to retire back to the house. Her attendants picked up after her, and they walked her inside. As one of the attendants walked passed her she whispered.

“Go to freedom, depart from the vineyard.” She whispered as she turned to go into the hall.

The attendant wrinkled her eyebrows, for a moment, as if to understand what the young mistress had just said. She walked to the kitchen, where she was to take water for the young mistress. 

A silent trade was made with the cook, but at the last second, with hesitance, she whispered, “Escape the vineyard, go to freedom.” 

The cook dropped a pot as if to have heard what the attendant has said. With a shake of her head, she went back to work. She grabbed an apple from a crate, which she slipped to the filthy girl who lived in the walls of the house. The girl grabbed it ravenously, for a split second, the cook stopped.

“Go to freedom,” she whispered, “escape the vineyard.”

The dirty girl gave a toothy smile as if to understand what the cook had said.

She put the apple in her pouch, as she slipped out of the house and skipped to the far reaches of the vineyard. Her sister was emptying the last of the grapes into a crate. The girl grabbed one and put in next to her apple. Her sister smiled. They both walked to the top of the hill to watch the sunset. Her sister split the apple in two and offered one to her sister. The dirty girl smiled and reached for it. Then she paused.

“Go to freedom,” she whispered to her sister, “Escape from the vineyard.”

A strange smile appeared on her sister's face. She grabbed her little sister’s hand.

“Let’s go to freedom, it’s time to escape from the vineyard,” she whispered as they ran down the hill. To freedom.