Beyond the Rape Yard

Beyond The Rape Yard by Bella Basura 2019

Every night she was tortured by the sounds.
She lay awake, at best half-asleep, hearing the far-off grunts and snarls, the yelps and screams.
Screams, she heard, she was sure.
Screams rising out of the squatting night, keening out across the gardens, from the other side of the spiked wrought iron fence.
Screams there had been, dark and sudden in the night.
Crying out above the sirens, squealing brakes, milk train chugs panting in the depot.
Scream echoes around dark empty warehouses, out across bleak spotlit siding tracks, muffled through the upright spears of the fence, baffled by sinuous twine of columbine, deadened by green flapping leaves like the webbing of tank camo, floating up, losing power, flutters hopelessly against her window.
Every night she was tortured by the sounds.

Bella Basura
Re-edited August 2019
132 words

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