Walls // [Open]

"Temple go to town," was all my mom said, passing me a list of grocery items we could not make for ourselves on the ranch. Dread filled my stomach- I'd already been to town for the reaping and wasn't exactly thrilled about returning. At home on the ranch a kid can pretend that they're the only thing out there. That cows and clouds are the entire world. When I walk into the square I'm reminded of the harsh truths of my world. That children die on television for entertainment and that one day one of those children could be me. Taking the list, I shove it in my pocket and throw on my coat. It's a long walk to town and an even longer one back with bags of supplies. The trip would take all day and it wasn't what I had planned on today. Mostly, I had thought about walking the perimeter of the ranch and lying in the pasture but obviously my mother had other plans. I decide to take one of Pa's dogs with me. Jericho usually liked to lay with me in the grass while watching the cattle so I figured he'd be good company to the square. Walking out back, I gave a loud whistle and watched a handful of dogs sprint to the gate. Letting Jericho through I wave the rest off by throwing a stick out for them to fight over with. I scratch Jericho behind the ears before heading off to town.

The ranches I pass look a lot like my own family's. Some are run by wealthier families and have multiple people working on them- loners, single men, and poorer families all herding their cows and feeding their chickens. I wonder what it must be like to be so wealthy you can pay people to do all your work for you.

By the big White Ranch (it has a real name but I've never learned it so I go by the color of the big house on the property instead), there is a much smaller one. Their barbed wire is so rusted I'm afraid looking at it wrong will turn it to dust. It has a little wooden shanty and maybe five diary cows in all in a small pen with a tired looking bull off by itself. An old woman with a humped back stares at me as I pass. I'm far away but I can see the deep lines in her face. I wonder if she's alone, or if she has a small family of poor children that milk the cows. Either way, it's a situation I would never want to be in myself.

Hours later I see the square up ahead. It's a little after high noon, and people are busy inside the little walls. Men sweep their store fronts, and women call out their wares. As I reach the square I see a man in a black suit made out of real rich material talking to a merchant about a watch. I look at him for a few moments, taking in his clean haircut and trimmed beard. He must live in the White Ranch or somewhere like it. I try to picture Pa in the same outfit and can't wrap my mind around it.

Looking to the list I spot tools and pots Ma needs so I decide to head to the metal smith first. I look to my side to wave Jericho along but see nothing but dirt. Twisting around I don't see the pup anywhere. I try to be discrete and give a small whistle and a pat to the side of my leg. Still, nothing but stores and people.

I see Keepers in their clean white uniforms, I see gunmetal and shiny black boots but I don't see my companion. My heart lurches in my chest and suddenly my lungs can't take in enough air to satisfy my brain. My heartbeat is thundering my ears and I can't see straight.


"Jericho?!"