She still couldn’t shake the previous night’s dream. Walls of cold brick, warm puddles fill the scent of filth amongst her Korean prison camp shack.
A reporter’s dream, to research from the center. In the wrong place at the wrong time has confined her towards every experience without leaving any guard names behind. From secretly raising rats for food to breathing toxic air of the vomit scent seeping through from another that tries to digest the only way to survive.
The treasure is by word, by word the treasure unfolds, as the pen rips the paper and carves the wood on the table of her mind. It’s in her blood, her will, her Ling family tradition that must live on from deep inside. A sound, a reminder on the edge of her passing dreams “Your memory, not by paper, paper you shall overcome, bring it home, bring it home…”.
Each day is the same, no sunlight to shine, only the frame of the prison shack and the memory of her mind. Everyday she is pricked by their constant control through the whip claps or the force against her will as her feet have blisters, her skin has shed by pounds. Each moment she maps her location by blood stains on the ground or the broken branches from the trees.
Each night she prepares for the daily torture to flash, her mental notes are heavy as her memories do pass. Each dream she relives her enslaved days, the moment she was caught leads to the moment she can save. She never dreams of tomorrow, she only dreams of that day.
The bang of the rod that smacked against the floor awoken her so. She is becoming aware each passing sunrise as she witnesses Euna Lee fragile from afar, another divided star.
Eyes of fire, anger not, just a soul of intent, she has only yet begun. Sharpening her senses, she eats from the greens to encourage the growth of her memory. No one notices her chance to warn others for they can only see a female in rags, dragging to obey any order given.
She feels her heart beating slower, her fragile mind is clear until she falls asleep thinking of her destined path, again.
Preparing the best news story you will hear, she suffers as a lamb, a lesson to give. Her experience, she knows what to expect, she expects others to be aware. She’s the only writer deep in her soul, the only true researcher inside. As each night plays in re-run, different dream every night.
Twelve years later, the Korean gates open. Freedom welcomes her, as she begins to share her thoughts on paper from twelve years of punishment and memories stored. Her experienced sheds light for those caught near Korean controlled territory or those bound within Korean lines with the words “Know where not to journey in that curious mind or a prison camp is what you might find.”
Her days reach journalism goals as her life outside the musky Korean prison walls hold one key habit trained. She still couldn’t shake the previous night’s dream, for every time she awakens she is prepared to write from inner experience.