Escape

My escape took me to the remains of an old building, partly destroyed by the bombs, just outside the town. Weeds were growing among broken pieces of stone and wood and the dark sky framed the place as a desolated painting of a ruined home. I shivered as the cold northern wind touched my face and tried to rub my arms to keep me warm. I realized I had to find a shelter soon as temperature was quickly falling down as the night approached. I picked some broken pieces of wood and plastic and built an improvised shed. The smell of mould surrounded me and so I tried to light up a fire to fight the cold humidity and the growing darkness. The crackle of the flames made me feel more comfortable, in spite of the smoke and the strong wind blowing outside. I felt a bitter taste in my mouth, a taste of hunger and despair in the night.