blood and milk

she is a woman of about 35 to 40. She wears an old over-sized shirt, and  jersey shorts that may belong to her husband. One look, and you know she is a mother from a family under the poverty line. One look, and you know that she’s bothered; tired, yet shes trying to build her courage.

Her footsteps are of the insane, minds of the desperate. she walk aimlessly, slowly toward the glass doors. An unfriendly look from a man on white and blue seize her movement, but  then, collecting her courage, she focus all her courage on the goal of passing through the now-opened glass doors.

She found herself both happy and desperate. Her eyes gleam as she walk on the aisle of the long line of toys. And maybe those gleaming are dreams for her children. Yes, dreaming that her children are playing, happy and satisfied with those colorful stuffs.

And yet, that is not the reason she’s walking inside that huge establishment. Right now, she has a different dream.

The staccato of her steps became of a rapid rhythm of adrenaline and desperation as she saw, from a corner her target. She strech her hands to reach for that rectangular box. And finally, she have it.

 A smile runs across her face as the box vanished, hidden into her old baggy shirts. She walks so confident yet so silent and innocent. Now just few more steps and shes free. Few more steps and her baby would be happy.

As she pass through the same glass doors, an unfamiliar hand grab her on her waist. And that was the hand she wishes never to reach her. The hand become two and reach for something on her old baggy shirts. And found the box the woman treasures.

But she cannot surrender the box. Her child needs it. With no other choice. She fight her way against the rough hands and run as fast as she could. No matter where. No matter how far. But very unfortunate, men on the white and blue uniform run after her. Determined and powerful. Unlike her sprint that is weak and undecided.

Her steps are confused. Her steps are unfaithful to her own decisons. Setting her fears aside, she run across the road where vehicles meet and cross. Yes, across that road where no people are invited and boxes with wheels dominate. But she knows better, the other side of the road is salvation and comfort, and the only way back to her children.

But then, life is not fair..She is unwelcomed on the property of the raging wheeled vehicles.

Blood came running through the roads. Carried by the furious wheels. 

And the dream of the toys and the milk was carried away, along with the blood and human flesh. The dream remained a dream. And the milk became blood.