New Hopes, New Hobbies, and Revelations.

So, this is new for me. Blogging, I mean. It's something that a friend suggested to me. And if I'm being honest, I'm not sure why she suggested it. But, here it is. Hopefully, with time, this blog will actually be worth reading. Maybe people will agree with my opinions, appreciate my words. Or, maybe they won't. Maybe, they will disagree with me. They will argue with me, but even that would make me happy. Because I effected them somehow, I made them think. Made them passionate about something that they stand for. That's all I can ask for.

So last year, I was given an assignment. Write a story in 300 words. Shave away the unnecessary, the unwanted, the to-complicated. And so, I wrote a story about human trafficking.
Now, before you read the story, know that Brady Dennnis was the inspiration for the assignment. He writes on everyday events, on things that we see, but refuse to acknowledge. The topic that I chose to write on was human trafficking. And now, I give this to you to read. Maybe it will speak to you.

The girl behind the curtain

She made her breathing even, pretending to be asleep. She faced the wall as the guard passed her cell. His shadow lingered. He stopped and she felt him gazing into her room with evil eyes. Then he moved on. Tears burn her eyes as thoughts race through her brain. She hates this place…

            She’s surrounded by solitude.

She rolls over in her cot and looks through the curtain to the cell on the other side of the hall. The girl there had been brought in about two weeks ago. Like some of the others, she had been drugged. She lay there, asleep for the first time since she got here. The fear kept her up in the beginning, like everyone here. Her eyes flickered to the paper attached to the front of her curtain.

Her price tag.

Every few days, men would walk through the hallway of this place. Never the same man though.  They were always different, but always the same. Arrogant, rich, evil… they took advantage of people. They were demons in Hell. She is in Hell.

Through the night, she hears the screams of those poor souls who are being tortured. The tears overflow as she thinks of the girl that was brought in yesterday. She couldn’t have been more than seven. The way the men here are… she wouldn’t make it past ten.

Suddenly, she hears laughter. Deep, loud, terrifying.

She shifts, curling into herself. She turns her back to them, huddling in the corner, hiding the best she can. As the voices approach, she prays to whoever will listen. She begs and pleads. Her eyes squeeze shut as the fear shakes her. The curtain is yanked open. Her prayers fall on deaf ears.

“I want that one.”

This is what it is to be trafficked.

Editor’s note: 300 words present glimpses of events that happen every day that often go unnoticed.