Home Away From Home

Manuel stood outside the small hut he called home, watching the sun fade over the horizon. Blowing through the tall grass, the wind was light and teasing on his skin. As dusk took over the land, Manuel’s neighbors retreated into their huts. Candles were lit in the windows, but even that light was snuffed from his view as shutters were closed and locked for the night.

Manuel’s gaze shifted towards the castle in the distance. What had been a beacon of hope and beauty for so long, he now saw as the origin of his worry. Tonight was no different than any other night for Manuel. Oftentimes he sat or stood in front of his house, watching light fade, for it to be replaced by darkness. This was a newer habit, one picked up only a few months prior.

Sighing deeply, Manuel decided to head in for the night. As he reached the door however, he couldn’t help but stop. At first, he did not know what it was that made him freeze, but he knew it was something. Bedtime can wait. Walking slowly down the dirt trail that led both to the city and the quarry where he worked, Manuel closed his eyes and listened intently. Nothing. No, something. He had heard it again. The sound grew clearer the further he went. Opening his eyes, Manuel was baffled to see distant light pouring in through the eerily thick fog that had set in. The light was alive, dancing and swirling about. Manuel froze as he realized not only was he getting closer, but so was it. Feeling trapped, like life itself was closing in on him, Manuel did not move. Accompanying the bright swirling fire, was the sound of marching. His mind grew quiet, his inner voice drowned out by the increasing steps of marching. Worry engulfed his heart, its soft beating turned to a violent roar in his chest. Now he could only pray. Pray that they weren’t there for him.

In front of the pack was the commanding officer, who had ordered his men halt. He examined Manuel, looking him up and down. “Out for a stroll so late? Somewhere to be?”

“No sir. Nowhere to be.” His palms sweat profusely.

“No? Well, you best be careful. Wouldn’t want you to be held up by a bandit.”

“Right, well I was just on my w-”

“Search him.”

Manuel stepped back in fear, but the guards were quickly upon him. They patted him down aggressively. When they finished, they stepped back and surrounded him. Stepping forward, the commanding officer eyed him skeptically. “Name?”

Manuel’s stomach dropped to his knees. “Um… I… name… my name… right…”

“Spit it out you oaf.”

“Manuel.” He winced.

The officer elegantly produced a scroll from his belt. “Let us see.” He unrolled the parchment and his eyes roamed the list. He squinted. “Hm.” Manuel watched with bated breath. The officer checked his belt and satchel. “My readers. William, do you have them?” he said, turning to the guard on his left.

“Nah.”

“Mmmm. Must have left them on my bedside table. Here.”

William took the scroll. “Do you want me to read the whole list, or?”

“Yes, and do so quickly.”

“By… um… order… yes… by order of … um. Hey, can I get some light?”

“Quickly” the officer said with irritation.

A guard (with great speed) moved to hold a torch next to the paper for lighting purposes.

“By order of King Archibald, I declare these names to be captured, and imprisoned for crimes of terror.”

Manuel’s stomach positioned itself in the soles of his feet.

“Marco Benjamin, Luis Ismael, Oscar Gael, Ernesto Elias, Julio Alexis, Ramiro Estaban, Victor Raul, Mauricio Dario, Hector Anibal, Rafael Eliseo, and…”

Manuel’s stomach was nowhere to be found.

“Manuel Jacinto”

The commander smiled at Manuel. “Jacinto? Is that you in there?”

Manuel had seen a ghost, or so it seemed.

“Arrest him. Find the others. Knock down doors if you have to. You know the drill.” Manuel was swiftly chained and brought down the trail to a large carriage pulled by oxen. An ox sneezed on him as he walked by.

“God bless you, Freddy,” said one of the guards.

In the back of the carriage, Manuel sat anxiously. Inescapable thoughts circled through his head, both of what would lay ahead, and of what he was being forced to leave behind. Charlotte. The girl from the borough. Despite being nothing like him, Charlotte and Manuel were deeply in love. Her parents never approved of course, for he was dirty. Likely a bandit. Charlotte, however, did not care what her parents thought of him, and she knew him. That is why, strongly against her parents wishes, Charlotte was back at the hut. Manuel wished he had said something before he left, because he knew this was coming. He had felt it. Selfish, he thought, for him to not have said goodbye. Said something more than that even. But what? With the rest of the listed names having been rounded up into the carriage, Manuel knew he had a long trip ahead to think about it.

Many miles down the road, shining orange rays through the small window of the carriage, the sun finally rose. Inside, it was as quiet as a congregation of mice, but outside, the birds sung in long, soothing notes.

Oats spilled out of an inmate's hands onto the floor, and he sighed in frustration. Manuel carefully scooped oats from the small wooden bowl with his bare hands, shoveling them into his mouth. A guard watched with smile as he cut a piece of his fried egg, placing it into his mouth with his fork.

Many more miles along, a vast Mountain range poked through the window. Snowy peaks glistened under the setting sun.

During a break, an inmate made a run for it. Manuel watched him be shamefully returned to the carriage, face a bloody pulp, and shirt torn from the thick jungle bushes. Manuel finished peeing, and joined his fellow inmate.

Weeks later, the trip took to the seas. Manuel knew he would see his home land again for the first time in years. Though Manuel missed its sandy beaches and gorgeous weather, only dread filled him. 10 years ago, Manuel left for foreign lands. Many of his friends and family went before him, so he heard from their letters of the promise the new land held.

After over a month of travel, both by land and sea, Manuel came face to face with the beaches of the land he ran from. Maybe now it is better here. Not that it mattered for him. Chained to strangers and neighbors from his village in the kingdom, Manuel and the others were marched off the large ship. Before him, towering over the ocean, stood a block of stone and steel. A fortress of no return. Knowing that this may be the last time he sees the sky, Manuel looked up to it, and whispered into the wind.

“Your beauty parallels that of dusk and dawn, your laugh warms my heart like the songs of the birds. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you; no mountain I wouldn’t move, no jungle I wouldn’t traverse to reach you, because my love for you runs deeper than the vastness of the ocean. You are my everything. I will see you again.”

A lie, he thought.