Creative Writing

Chapter 1 description: Andule’ Andule’. We throw what little belongings we posses over the fence. I go first, as being the man of the family I need to be able to assist my family over if needed and in worst case scenario, I will be the first one shot. I climb to the top of the fence and with excruciating pain yell out. On the top was a roll of barbed- wire. My hand bleeding from the wound does not slow me down. Me and my eldest son Julio grab my daughter’s hand and pull her over then I grab my wife’s hand, seeing guard’s driving towards us, I hear gun shots and with all my might gather the strength to help her over. Once on the other side of the fence I look back, the guard’s are gaining on us. I spot a ditch, with no hesitation I put my daughter in my arms and tell my wife and son to follow. We are now crawling along the ditch, trying not to be seen. Rain water collects in the ditches so now we are covered in wet red clay. I know my family is having a hard time with this but I think it is the best thing for us. We come to a stopping point, exhausted we lean against the walls of what seems like prison. My throat feels like our farm in Mexico during the drought so I ask my wife for the bag and remove the canister of water, I pass it around until we each are able to wet our lips. We are not able to rest long, I realize that day break is approaching and will been seen if we flee during the day. While climbing out of the ditch I felt like I was in slow motion; the journey ahead of us was not nearly over. Reaching a deserted highway we begin to walk along it. Each one of us is holding a sign saying “Por favor isocorro!” of course we must write it in Spanish because we know nothing more but our native language. Hours of impatient waiting a Spanish man in a pickup truck pulls over and tells us to get in. We do as told, we do not ask where he is taking us, we are just grateful to have hitched a ride. The man that had picked us up introduced himself as Pedro; he was a farmer and was transporting his corn to the local markets. As we rode along in the back of this man’s pickup truck I admired all that America offered. Everything was green and luscious, technology was thriving and there was farm land all around; promising to a brighter future. I awoke to find the sun setting, the breeze had a slight chill, almost as if from the ocean. Suddenly Pedro stops the truck; I hear voices and peer around the front. I see a truck reading “Border Patrol”, apparently there was a road block ahead and they began to search the vehicles. Pedro tells us to hide under the load of corn that he had in the back. We scurry around quickly, knowing that they are approaching. My family and I are careful tucked into the pail of corn. The smell is awful, much of dry dirt, I began to feel sharp bites into my body, the bugs from the corn were biting us. I heard footsteps and my heart stop. So many things flashing through my mind at the moment, what if we are caught? Should we make a run for it? Will they kill us? Did I make the right decision? As I lay their motionless I feel movement of the corn that cover my body. Luckily they did not move much, for if they had gone any deeper they would have found my leg. I feel the truck begin to move again. A sign of relief swept across my body, we made it, and we are free. Now it is time to find land and begin to achieve the “American Dream” that every immigrant speaks of.