HPAC Young Writers Review Volume I | Page 17

I IN THE D.R. t was July, and I was in the Dominican Republic. I was 10 years old at the time, and I was filled with anticipation as our bus drew nearer and nearer to the resort where my mother and I were staying. But my mood took a sudden swing when our bus arrived in a strange neighborhood. I was dying for cool air to counteract the overwhelming heat of the bus. Everyone on board was either loud, annoying, or both. I tried to distract myself by peeking out the window. I noticed the lack of grass in the yards and the bars on the dirty windows. The loud music and the vicious dogs in the fenced in areas gave me an unsettling feeling that I was not safe. Debris littered the concrete ground and I assumed that people loitered during the day and vanished when the night appeared. Personally, I would rather have pissed my pants than have stepped even a toe outside to use any of the bathrooms in the vicinity. The smell of waste and cigarettes pervaded the atmosphere, and it seemed like I was the only one that was bothered by it. A few guys were outside heckling girls, yelling: “ hola mami chula, adonde vas!” Although the closed windows and the hardened seats protected me from what was outside, I could still detect a distinct sense of misery and absence of hope in the atmosphere. A few minutes later, scurrrrrrrrrrrr, the bus came to a sudden stop without any warning from the bus driver. POW! the bus door blasted open. “Everyone get down and shut up!” a masked man shouted. He was tall, skinny and wore a small black tank top, with old denim jeans and white, dirty flip-flops. He was holding a black M9 handgun sideways. I sat there, and amidst my immediate terror I found myself wondering, “should I really take a man in a black tank top and flip flops seriously?” Blank-faced expressions surrounded me, because everyone was startled. My body was full of mixed emotions; I was scared and confused. My body shifted nervously in my seat, my hands folded as I watched my surroundings, corner to corner, waiting for something to occur. I wasn’t able to look at anyone in the eyes, not even the masked man. I had lost all words and I was defenseless. “Please leave us alone,” another lady cried in despair. The