Garage

by Kött Grá Pje

The kids were dragged out of bed, their feet shoved into shoes, and led around
the village in pajamas to the garage where emergency rescue kept their jeeps and
snowmobiles.  Once they got there, there was a headcount.  Yes, everyone’s here
except Anna Möllu who’s in Akureyri visiting her grandma.  With that, the kids
were herded into the garage.  Some of them cried, tired and confused, in a bit of
an uproar.  None of the adults said anything.  Kids called their parents’ names, but
none answered. Once they were all securely inside, the doors were closed and
padlocked.  Then the adults laid down on their backs and looked up at the sky. 
They seemed not to hear the cries of their children in the garage, or the banging
on the door and window panes.  The kids tried to break the panes with tools, but
the plastic was too strong and they themselves to weak.  The hullabaloo
continued well into the morning until the last kids were so exhausted from
crying, calling out, and banging on the door that they collapsed.  For a while, a
deep calm pervaded the town.  A single seagull squawked down by the harbor. 
Finally the mail car arrived.  Then the adults got to their feet.  But they didn’t
open up the warehouse.  It was never opened again.  One fine day, the town
wasn’t there anymore.  Just like that, nothing but ruins. A padlock in the grass.  

Translated by Meg Matich.