Run

By: Allan Strabbing, Ashley Pedraza, Donavin Rodriguez, and Robert Schoen

Bishamon a 15 year old boy of Japanese ancestry who lived in Spokane, Washington and struggled a
lot at home. Things went bad, that he left his house. After a while from living in the streets he was sent to a
camp. In the camp he meet a young girl. He tried to escape with her. Running away from camp did not end
well. Trying to escape Bishamon dies.

Find yourself a job, you never help pay the rent! Bishamon you know that we are in need with money,
his mother yelled. She had shoulder-length raven black hair and stood only a few inches taller than him.
Bishamon flinched at the volume of her voice, putting his arms up to defend himself, just like he learned. Say
something! You better find a job soon or your father will do something about this! His Mom said, raising her
hand to slap him, but Bishamon collected himself, putting his arms down.
He looked his mother in the eye and said in a weary, shaky voice, Mother, I promise Ill find a job.
Good. Dont dissapoint me, Bishamon, and with that, she turned, lowering her hand, and walked
away.

After a while, he stopped searching for a job. All of the pressure from his mother to be the best pushed
him down, and he eventually started drinking.
What is wrong with you? Who are you trying to be, you need to stop, his mom yelled, anger blazing in
her eyes.
What are you talking about? Im not doing anything. he said in a drunk tone.
Dont tell me you are drunk!
Im not, leave me alone!
You are no good to the family, you are useless. Leave! She slapped him hard, a rough stinging feeling
was left on his cheek. Tears finally left his eyes, a lump growing in his throat.
Fine! Youre a terrible mother anyways! He spat, rushing into his room, grabbing a small blanket, a
few changes of clothes, and a limited amount of hygiene products, and left. As he left, he slammed the door,
making a picture frame beside the door fall and crash on the ground.

One day he woke up and there was a man towering over him, though he could only see a vague image
of him due to the harsh sun in his eyes. He squinted, putting his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun and
realized that he was an African American man. Why would an African American be standing there, waiting for
me to wake up? He thought, confused.
Hello young man, The man said. His voice was deep and raspy, almost sickly.
Who are you? Bishamon asked, anxiety sparking when the man crouched down.
I want you to come along with use, youll be better at our camp named Camp Harmony, The man
said, trying to convince him to follow him.
That didnt answer my question, he growled.
Oh! My apologies. My name is Tyrone! Whats yours?
Bishamon, now why do you want me to follow you?
Youll love it there, Tyrone laughed, noticing the hostility in Bishamons voice, Plus, its law. All people
of Japanese ancestry must be sent to camps during the war. Bishamons heart dropped, hopelessness
growing slowly, get up, Tyrone said suddenly, the train leaves in an hour. And with that, he got up and
gathered his belongings.
 Its been months that hes been there almost to the next year which is 1940. He hated it there, there
wasnt many meals that were good, they didnt have much freedom. Though, he was able to write for the Camp
Harmony News Letter, which was a pleasant way to spend an afternoon.
Bishamon started to think of a way to get out of the camp. Of all the ideas he had to escape, he thought
about jumping or climbing over the fence. He nodded very subtly, deciding, finally, on when to execute the
plan. Eventually, everyone was called to eat, much to his dismay.

Bishamon stared down at his meal, the table shaking slightly from his fidgeting leg. A loud voice
snapped him back to reality, Hey! You alive? He felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked up to see a child
standing behind him. She had black shoulder-length hair and she looked as if she was about 11 years old. He
looked like his mom. He couldnt hear her well because of the noise around them, but he could manage to
make out what she was saying.
Uh- yeah? The girl sat beside him, looking at his meal, then looking back up at him, why are you
even talking to me? Shouldnt you be with your family and friends? Bishamon hissed, annoyance growing in
his chest.
Nope! They dont care where I am, she chirped, but looked down awkwardly at her torn up shoes,
anyways- my name is Maeko! Whats yours?
Ill uh- Ill tell you later. My name makes others uncomfortable-
Oh! Wait! I know who you are! I heard my mom talking about you last night before bed. She said that
your name means, her voice dropped down to a whisper, God of War?
Bishamon nodded, bringing his right hand to his left forearm and scratching roughly. Not because he
was itchy, but because this whole situation made him super uncomfortable.
Yeah, I know the feeling, but with something else, Maeko said softly, my family hasnt cared about
me for a long time. Since I was 7 they ignored me, shooting down anything I wanted or needed. I didnt even
ask for much.
Oh, He paused, taking a deep breath, My parents ditched me about a year ago. I left the house and
lived on the streets until we were taken to the camps.
Why couldnt you just stay at the house?
Two reasons, Bishamon stuck up his hand to about shoulder level, showing a one with his fingers, I
couldnt pay for rent, he showed a two with his fingers, and awful things went down in that house.
What kind of things? She asked, moving closer to him in curiosity.
Uh- lets just say that, he paused to think of the right words, A child shouldnt experience that kind of
stuff. His mind shot to a dark place, making him tense up. He moved his hand down slowly, onto his arm. Shut
up, dont tell her that, shell think youre a freak, shell leave you just like they did, stop, stop, stop, st-
You okay? Maeko asked, her voice wavering slightly, You dont have to talk about it if you dont want
to.
Bishamon shook his head, his hand moving up to his head, running his fingers through his raven black
hair, Im fine, I promise. Its just really sensitive stuff.
I understand, Bisha.
Bisha?
Your nickname! So you dont have to hear your full name, She smiled warmly. Its the least I could
do. He smiled at her, a warmness filling his chest.
Thanks.

After dinner, the two made their way to a clearing and sat down on the compact sand. Whatre you
gonna do when were all released, if we are? Maeko asked, her eyes glowing with hope.
I dont know- He stopped himself, going over something in his mind. He paused, looking back up at
her, how fast can you climb a fence? He muttered at her, scratching at the sand beneath him.
Why?
 Were leaving tonight.
She began to panic, No, you cant! Youll be hurt or killed! She tried to keep her voice to a whisper as
she hissed at him.
I wont. I can run and climb very fast.
She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him slightly, are you stupid, Bisha? Youre going to be shot by the
guards if you try that.
Death is better than anything right now, he looked at the clouds, which seemed heavy with rain, if you
dont wanna do it, thats fine by me. He stood up, glaring down at her. His voice grew dark very suddenly, if
you want to escape with me, meet me by the mess hall at midnight. Ill be expecting you there. He turned and
walked away into the night.

At midnight, he stood at the mess hall, trying to avoid guards passing by. Every time he was caught, he
was questioned, but every time the guards asked, he just simply replied with Im stargazing. And they left him
be. He looked on either side of him and around the corner, but there were no signs of Maeko. Alright, I guess I
gotta go by myself. Shell be sorry that she didnt come with me. He thought, a scowl growing on his face.
He looked at the large fence that was a distance from him. He slowly began to walk to the clearing that
he and Maeko were at a few hours beforehand. A harsh breeze hit him, chilling his pale skin. He shivered from
the sudden impact of the coldness. As soon as he was at the edge of the clearing, he broke out into a sprint.
The cold air hit his face hard as he ran. He heard a surprised, angry shout and heavy footsteps trailing behind
him. He jumped onto the fence, feeling a sharp pain in his hands. A warm liquid dripped from his palm, but he
didnt care. He climbed as fast as he could to the top, climbing over the barbed wire, new cuts and gashes
forming on his limbs. He lost his grip for a second, his face hitting the barbed wire. Blood dripped from his nose
as well as his eye, making his vision red and blurry.
A loud Bang sounded in the air, then a sudden pain in his chest. He lost his balance and fell into the
shrubs on the outskirts of the world beyond the fence. His vision began to grow dark as he attempted to sit up.
His head started to spin, so he eventually gave up and collapsed back into the shrubs. The cold prickled at his
bare skin, which was soon replaced with a warm numbness spreading through his body.
A weak smile found its way onto his face, feeling the pain that he previously felt disappear into the
same warm numbness. Bishamon eventually closed his eyes, letting death embrace him.

Hirohito, light my path.