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A short piece I contributed to someone’s project recently- wanted to share it here.
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“Home”
By Jeff DeMarco

“¿A dónde vamos?” The little girl asked her driver.
The driver turned to her and spoke the way a teacher would.  Slow, carefully, measured- as if to soothe any restlessness.
“Home. Would you like to go home?”
“¡Si!” The little girl exclaimed, believing the warmth in the woman’s voice.
The van smelled like plastic and lemon wipes, and the windows were too dark to see through. As they drove, the woman’s voice flattened and her demeanor began to change as she coldly murmured numbers and codes into the radio the girl didn’t understand. That’s when their destination came into view:
a tall, foreboding building with massive blank walls, no windows, and razor fences lining the perimeter.

That’s when the girl realized “home” wasn’t a place at all…

…it was just a word they used to keep children quiet until the doors locked behind them.
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