“I know it’s only been three weeks…” she said to the one tree that she could see from that window, “but it feels like forever without my family and home.” It was cold the night that the wasichu came to her home. They told her parents that she needed to be taught the true way of God. She needed to be civilized. They took her out into the night and shoved her into a smelly, black car. Her hands were clasped tightly in terror.
They arrived at an imposing building set back from the road. It had only one light lit near the front door. They roughly pushed and pulled her, entered a room with a woman in black robes sitting behind a desk. To the right there was a man in an all black suit. Telling her all that would be expected from her was difficult since she knew only a bit of the language they were speaking. All she knew for sure was that they did not like her. She bit her lip to keep from crying. What followed for that little Metis girl is too horrible to describe.
© Carol Campbell
“The opening sentence for the March 4th Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner: “I know it’s only been three weeks…”’~ Roger Shipp
*Wasichu is a Native name for white people.
**Metis is a tribe in Canada.
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