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Intro to chapter 5 "Let the games begin" It was cold. I always remember it being cold. After all it was hunting season. But not just any kind of 'hunting season' . This kind was made for the old elite who couldnt move quick like the younger ones. They were to hunt the children within the walls of the castle . Always small children 3-9 years old. They loved having the younger little ones , cause they are always the loudest and cried easily. Especially when it went dark and the shofar blew and the music starts on the speakers. There is and was no escape, and there was no happy endings. This game had no rules. Anything goes. These frail old elite had one thing on their mind. To drink and to feast on their trophies. The guards had locked all the windows and all the doors. There was no escape. The only thing was if you survived till sunrise. You would be allowed to live another hunt. You would be able to live another day. That false hope is what you clung on. Cause that belief of allowing you to live if you could run and hide till sunrise would be most of the times a false promise. These beings were filled with absolute evil. When you looked into their eyes I saw no sparkle of life no hope and no soul. For they had sold their soul to the evil that had took over. They smelled of rotting flesh and old moth balls. The ordour was repulsive that came from them. The children where naked and all had a number on their back. Trembling and the older ones holding the hands of the younger ones. You always listened for the music to start, that was your freedom to move. I wonder if the statement ' run for your life ' came from these hunting parties, or 'survial of the fittest'.No matter that didnt matter. This was a test this was a game. They fed the children always before the games. They knew children when scared would wet and mess themselves and even vomit. Leaving a trail to their location. Making them easier to find. Some elite had their dogs with them. Which was even more wicked. They had been trained to 'sniff us out'. But only the ones that couldnt walk more then a few steps without the assistance of a cane or what not. It was always so quiet before the music started. All you could hear was the rasping and shaking breathing of the children. Sometimes a little whimper. But mostly it was dead quiet. Then the shofar blew and the music began. The little ones would always be the first to start crying and always the first to get caught and killed. The older ones could try to as long as it was permitable to keep the little ones quiet. But then survival mode would kick in. You would eventually have to run and leave them behind. You couldnt run and carry something for so long and keep them quiet . It was a cruel game. There was no such thing as happy endings. The guilt and shame you would feel after surviving such a ordeal was worse then death itself. Survivors guilt is a real thing amongst the ones that lived through it. That was hell. But when you would realise the children who you bonded with the night before and you told each and every one that you promised to keep them safe. Yet only a few remained over. I dont know what's worse the hell of the hunt, or the hell of living to see another day.© Zoë