It was six decades ago when humans invaded my village. At the beginning, they said they came in peace, that all they wanted was to study my village and race to find out how we’ve been living on Earth for so long without detection. Before I knew it, they destroyed the village. They tore homes apart and ransacked our technology. They burned and tore through everything until there was nothing left, nothing but ashes, bodies, and dust.
Then there was me. I was a little orphan boy at the time of the invasion. My parents had died under mysterious circumstances. They discovered me hiding in the corner of a convenience store. “We will take great care of you,” the nice lady led me out of the store into a black van. “You can trust me,” she said with a big smile and tried to block me from seeing the destruction of my village.
Now, sixty years later, I am still in the same place I ended up that day – in a glass box at a research center – and even though I have long since lost my functional limbs, I’d never lost hope I would see sunlight or my people again.
A Response for Sunday Photo Fiction.