The Journey

See them marching down the street with bags and pans and boots in hands and bundles sitting on top of their head walking down the street to welcome the dead. The lines kept getting longer and their burden gets heavier and the piercing heat from the sun burn their faces leaving blisters on their gums. Mothers holding babies on their breast with a piece of cloth to cover their neck and five other children strolling behind them holding on to their mother’s skirt and looking reluctant to go on the journey and I say to myself oh what profanity. I watched droves of them walking down the street as if they are armed for battle, bags on back gloves in hand and baseball bats across their shoulders. Big eyes bulged out of their head, looking around for something on the ground and their frightened eyes stared anxiously at me. I could see perspiration draining down their faces with lips folds tightly and determination walking boldly in their feet. The morning grows louder and air gets stronger and my pulse starts beating faster; I wasn’t sure what was going on in the town but people were moving all around and the cars were sinking in the ground and giant walls keep crashed in beneath the earth. The tree starts shaking and the earth’s starts moving and the stones came tumbling down; the road burst in the middle and the bridges falls into the sea and the levee broke and water engulf the entire town, but a few people were air lifted to the other side where the sun shone brightly.