The fence had stood there in rain and shine, withstood wind season after season. In a way, it was part of the landscape we all knew. As I watched it that day, slowly becoming a deeper hue in the rain, I imagined it gone. I saw how the land flowed better and something in my heart said yes. And so, even though there were a few curious eyes, I laid it down plank by plank, breathing easier with each one.
The fence is many shades of brown, having been renewed a piece at a time over the years. It reminds her of seaside homes, all painted different pastel hues. At times she wonders what no fence at all would look like, an expanse of different backyards - a patchwork quilt of flowers, grass and vegetables. Children playing in the open space, chasing the dogs for cuddles. Yet the fence allows her to eco-garden, some space and freedom to be a little messy, to let nature be nature with wildflowers and hedges for the birds, a natural compost heap beneath the pear tree.
The fence looked so flimsy, unobtrusive, almost non-existent; it was just three strands of wire that you had to squint to see on a misty overcast day. But what it lacked in visual presence it more than made up for in punch. Everybody said the farmer pumped a higher voltage through the lines than he was allowed. Most electric fences give you a little zap, something more than a tingle to let you know to back off, this one knocked you right off your feet with your hair standing on end. No-one ever touched it twice.
The fence was obviously new. Pale cedar planks that were yet to see a drop of rain stood unvarnished in the blistering August sun. Five feet tall with a foot of trellis on top giving a peek of the neighbors yard divided up into neat little rhomboid shapes.
The fence of sodden planks loosely nailed to an equally sodden and rotting wooden frame was a frail defense against the imaginary intruders she feared. One good kick and it would probably have fallen over, or at the very least a plank would have fallen out. The ivy that grew thickly to the left of the fence she once thought would tear it down, now she thought it was probably holding it up.
...enclosing all of District 12, is a high chain-link fence topped with barbed-wire loops. In theory it's supposed to be electrified twenty-four hours a day as a deterrent to the predators that live in the woods - packs of wild dogs, cougars, bears - that used to threaten our streets. But since we're lucky to get two or three hours of electricity in the evenings, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, I always take a moment to listen carefully for the hum that means the fence is alive, Right now, it's silent as a stone.
Found in The Hunger Games, authored by Suzanne Collins.
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