On the Back Alley Wall

By Amber Woods

She stood before the back alley wall. Chalk and marker, spray paint and ink splattered the bricks, but all she saw was blood. The entire wall oozed it, out of the alley, down the street, and through the capital city. And she could not do a single thing about it.

A time and a place for everything.

Everything exists somewhere.

There is a place for everything, and everything should be in its place.

Messages stained the wall; the words were overwhelming—final parting gifts from thousands of people about to experience the same final moment to speak.

It was a mistake.

Never underestimate your opponent.

They are watching you, always watching.

Rebel names and messages spotted the brick wall, scattered among those of the everyday man. The ones who spoke out against these events and stood up for their rights. These people were strong and daring, willing to bring their opinions out into the light. Unlike her. Unlike the everyday man who dared not defy Their standards. If it weren’t for Their promise, these names would surely have been scrubbed clean. Not only were They their own worst enemies, but They were everybody’s.

You all know this is wrong—Outspeak

We don’t need no thought control—Courage Hearts

Stand up and face yourselves, Monsters—We Will Rise

Some were just names and dates. Short and sweet. Proof that these people did exist at one point, written on the brick.

Sarah Jacky Cloft, December.

Jack K. Till, I don’t know what day it is anymore.

The Mark family, Chris, Kaylee, Hannah, and Janet, September.

Trembling, the girl bent down and picked up a marker from a rusted bucket, provided by Those who wrote the promise to the public. This was it, her last gift to humanity, her last chance to speak. She swallowed hard, trying to remove the cold lump of lead in her throat. What should she write here in history’s margin? Were her final words to be as false as the lies They told everyone?

If there is a will, there’s a way.

Can you forgive me?

You’ll get what you deserve.

Some were just random things that people wrote. In the moment, could they not find something to say? Or were they just trying to get a laugh?

Could you pass the ice cream?

I want a grape-filled banana.

The world is weird.

Something snippy or snarky? Something deep and profound? Something no one could understand, or something everyone could? Could she play along? She lifted her marker halfway, blood pumping and tears welling. She lowered the marker and blinked hard. Her lungs ached with the words waiting to be let out.

I wish you could be here to see this—Sam

God bless you all—Mom

I forgive you—Karen Gill

Some had names next to them, meant for certain people who came by to see them.  Asking for something, or comforting someone. Telling them something.

Hope is fragile.

Live life.

Don’t hesitate.

She took a deep breath and finally decided. In the corner, right next to the bottom of the wall, where only someone like her would go, she wrote it down. She wrote it in neat, small letters on the brick surface. It was about time her voice was heard.

There are always odds to be defied.

Still shaking, she squared her shoulders and stepped into the room. She was not going to give up yet. Something could change.

In the years to come, most missed the message. That was fine, because she was not trying to get the world’s attention. She just wanted to get the attention of someone like her.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amber Woods lives in a forest where she talks to the voices in her head.

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