Closed Borders


They had been waiting at the border for weeks. No one was let pass. Soldiers guarding the fence with violence. Children crying, people shouting. Hunger. Illness. This was hell, but even so it was better than what they had fled from.

Ever since the nuclear bombings started the madness had been spreading. It seemed the extreme blasts, the radioactivity and the huge amount of humans and animals dying in horrendous suffering had cracked the walls of reality. Some kind of new entities had emerged. Dark souls, spirits of another world, or maybe another dimension of this one. Maybe they were ghosts, maybe they were demons. No one knew, but they where terrifying. Murderous. Evil. People fled in fear.

They said they needed pain to move. Moving with people, between them, around them. Inside them. The more people around, the more powerful they became. They fed on suffering, urged for murder.

Ali was fifteen years old. He had fled from his home when his family was destroyed. Now he was stuck here. There were people, tents, misery as long as his eyes could reach. A great electric fence blocking the border was between him and safety.

He asked himself why. Why they were keeping them out when they needed so badly to move on. Why were they so afraid? New people were still coming, and there wasn’t even room for the ones who were already here. If they only could let them cross, the danger would be over. The evil creatures would no longer have their prey.

Rumours went. People said the darkness was coming this way, that the spirits were no longer bound to the radioactive zones.

One day, when the sun set, Ali could see them. A great darkness in the south east. He new it was too late.

A wave. A tsunami of death and horror went through the huge overpopulated area. People being thrown into the air. Hundreds of thousands of people. Ali grabbed a little girl, alone and lost in the masses, and hid underneath a big rock. As the wave passed, the rock shook. Soon it was over.

Everything was destroyed. People were lying around, broken, torn. Most of them were dead. Some were moaning, dying. Together Ali and the little girl crossed the broken fence. They had reached their destiny, but it was too late. There was nothing there. They walked into the the land they had longed for for so long, but the town which was once there was gone. The houses demolished. The people all dead.

The fence they had built to protect themselves had become their doom.




  1. Kind of feels like a commentary on Donald Trump’s proposed fence between the U.S. and Mexico. If so, nice way to take an actual event and spin it into a fictional outcome.

    Liked by 3 people

  2. Good story and links… and artwork… which reminds me… There are a couple of your stories that I have come back to look at the pictures again (knowing the story).

    Liked by 1 person

  3. They are mostly made by hand with pigment ink on low texture water color paper. I give it some more contrast after scanning it with Gimp, the image editor for linux on an old laptop. I think the program is available for other systems as well. It’s free!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s