Most of us long to "Be" but when the path gets too costly, or steep, we take solace in what we "Have." Remove the trappings of what we own, and then what is the sum of us?
They were the survivors, abandoned by the allies who swore to protect, in...
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Carlos woke surprisingly early it was not his usual habit to do so. Purpose on his mind this day, long before most others in the camp had stirred, with a sense of renewed energy. He was usually one to sleep very late, lethargy was an easy mindset to succumb to as a slave. However this morning was decisively different. No longer owned but a free man in his own right, it was a good feeling and bolstered his sense of worth and future, yet it felt alien to him also. The concept of freedom so long denied was difficult to get into his head. At long last he had a destiny of his own, free from the wills and limitations of others.
With this new horizon in mind he set about the task of organizing Bennett's abandoned abode to his liking. Orange, powdery bull dust had invaded everything, nothing was sacred. A few short weeks was all nature had needed to reclaim anything in this place. He shook out the bed clothes draping them on some scrawny bushes nearby to air. They were dusty and dirty but there would be no hope of washing them, water was too precious to be wasted on such vanities, the fresh wind would have to suffice. The same treatment for the mattress too, leaving it to air for the day.
Carlos discovered many valuable and interesting treasures as he cleaned out the ramshackle cabin. His eyes bulged when he discovered a collection of knives in varying sizes, the surgical stainless steel blades smooth and cool to the touch, all neatly wrapped in some cloth and tied with a strip of rawhide. They were well made, razor sharp, and had seen little use. He was surprised no one had taken these prizes sooner as they were deemed valuable currency indeed. However the specter of Bennett their uncompromising former leader still struck dread and respect into all. It would take some time before the fear the man generated subsided from the minds of the inhabitants in this camp. After all he was the founder of this place, and Bennett's rule and leadership permeated everything here from task to ritual, dawn to dusk.
In this clean up he also located a few useful items of clothing jammed down in an old metal filing cabinet. Most of Bennett's clothes naturally were way too large for him, these he set aside. Others would be grateful for their use. He cursed his bad luck as he found a pair of good boots which were much too large for him also, he desperately needed a new pair as his were very battered and fast getting toward the end of their life.
Stowed here and there were many items from before the war as well. Tokens that had little use now except as historical reminders of what civilization used to be before the chaos of conflict ensued. Old watches, a camera, credit cards, computer disks and a plethora of scratched CD's, even a battery operated radio. The batteries in it all gone bad, its insides destroyed by the corrosion of the leaking battery acid. The young man reminisced briefly on the joy of music as he played with the now mute receiver. It had been years now since he had heard music. The world had become a quiet, tuneless, place and he was not sure the human race was richer for its absence. Remembering his mother had a passion for music and her apartment was constantly filled with the sounds of her expensive stereo that he was forbidden to touch. It had taken Carlos a long time to grow accustomed to music's absence in his life if he even had. He hated the silence the new world seemed so filled with.
