An orange campfire flickers in between a young girl and a slightly more mature boy as they lay on the earth on their backs, their hands rested and eyes watching the night sky. The persistent ring of summer crickets plays throughout the forest. The glow of the fire encompasses them in a warm haze, whilst the rest of the landscape appears desolate and dark for miles.

 

‘Mama said those money-making monsters are destroying our land. It seems ridiculous to me – that they are trying to make more for themselves, whilst crumbling the ground they stand on in the process’, the girl remarked.

‘Wasn’t it like this last year too? The city only became tighter with everyone being pushed inward, all whilst the atmosphere became heavier. Do you remember people were protesting in the streets? We would call that normal now.’ The boy said, frowning as he turned his head to the side to pick at the dead patches of grass beneath him.

 

The girl nodded in turn and continued their whispered chatter, as she turned to the boy to ask, ‘If we weren’t here, where would you be?’

She sits up, holding her legs to her chest. He mimics her movement, and as she looks at him from across the fire, the flames light up his deep set, black eyes. Her eyes follow the countless purple bruises covering his arms. He sits dressed in all black clothing, in a shirt too cool for the breeze that runs through the open air. A brown, muddy blanket covers the ground beneath his legs. The girl is dressed in torn sweatpants, an oversized t shirt that comes down to her knees and a polyester coat.

 

‘I don’t know, back home?’ He responds.

 

She rolls her eyes and moves to lay on her back again, ‘I’m being completely serious.’

She pulls out her phone from her pocket, only to remember the battery ran out.

 

A sudden noise comes from a distance, a brief ticking sound. Neither of them react to it. The girl folds her arms, then fiddles with her bangs, then remembers her stomach and looks through her backpack. Her awkward munching sounds on a crumpled bag of peanuts cuts their silence.

 

‘I know. I am sorry. What are you going to do when you reach the border?’

 

‘I don’t know! I hope they don’t make us turn around and go home. If we even do make it all the way, there’s the risk I’ll be put with the others in a box, like an item they can just shelve until they decide to throw me out. Or if I do get a chance to get to court, I’ll be asked to explain why I left home and why I don’t have a humanitarian lawyer who can try to drill any sense of empathy toward the judge. I have heard and read enough to know I should not or cannot hope for anything yet.’ She mutters.

The boy scratches his short, dark hair and looks down at his feet with consternation.

‘Do not speak like that. Whatever happens, you cannot turn around, there is no way. You do not know what you have left behind anymore. I am afraid you would not recognise what you believe is home.’

 

The girl turns her face away from him as her chest tightens. After a minute, she turns on her side, shuffling a few times to adjust to the rocky earth beneath her jacket, before completely falling asleep.

 

 ‘You are right, do not expect anything of people. I pray, you are almost there.’, the boy gently utters. After hearing no response, he stands up, walks over to her to make sure she is in a deep sleep, then walks away into the darkness of the forest.

 

3 days later.

 

By a wide, aggressive shore, a large group of people stand at the dock, waiting for a small open boat to pull in closer to the edge. The young girl’s knuckles turn pale as she tightens her hold on the boy’s hand. A moment later, amidst the chaos and the cries of toddlers running to climb onto the boat, she is pushed forward and loses contact with him. Struggling to stand up, the waves almost force her over and into the water. Panting as she steadies herself, she whips her head around to see the boy left behind with several other adults. One of them, a woman, crouches down and covers her face with a piece of cloth. The girl stares wide eyed at the boy, who stands expressionless with his hands by his sides. 

 

She stretches her hand to him, screaming ‘What are you doing? We need to go, c’mon!’. The ticking noise returns and accelerates in speed, now pounding in her ears. 

 

An older man turns to the girl, grabbing her by the shoulders and shouting above the ringing, ‘Hey! Lady, what’s wrong with you?’.

 

‘That’s my brother! That—That’s my brother! He needs to get on the boat!’ She continues to stretch her arms out to him though the boat has now moved too far, and her movement frustrates the weight of the raft. 

 

‘There is no one there! You’re acting crazy!’ The man pulls her to sit down to steady the boat along the waves. The other passengers settle around her.

The girl glowers at him, then turns around again, hurriedly gripping onto a strap on the side of the boat as she pulls herself up. She shields her eyes from the sunlight with her free hand and scans the shore to search for the boy.

 

The ringing stops at once. There is no one left on the dock.