gummiebear07

 Ralph counted the lines scratched into the wall. He counted the number of rocks he’d worn smooth etching those marks. He counted the shadows he could see past the screen of the cave and he counted the shadows that he saw whenever he closed his eyes. He counted the number of boys that would never see their parents again. But the lines were foremost, always. Had he drawn one already today? Should he, just in case? He couldn't afford to lose count. He couldn't let the numbers jumble into mixed up digits in his head like the other boys had. Was it forty-one or fourteen? Sixteen or sixty? Ralph still kept track, but it wasn't out of any