Arya Dole (9) | STAFF REPORTER
She saw a bright light first, then everything went dark.
The light came first, and after came rushing along all the other senses. A taste of metal and the smell of burning flesh entered her world. It lingered, refusing to leave. There was the shockwave – a thunderous boom, an earthquake rattling the earth, sweeping her off her feet. She always felt like she was flying when the bombs went off. Always wished she was a fairy, flying through the air because of magic, not because of a bomb. Then, always, coming crashing down on rubble, crushing her daydream as she landed.
For some time, she lay there. The house’s roof was gone, leaving an open skylight in its place. The sky was still a clear blue, regardless of the fiery bombs flying around it. It was peaceful, lying there and staring at the sky. There seemed to be total silence. It was almost as if her ears had been shoved with the cloth her mother used to sew, back in the days when she still could sew. She was in a different universe, one where her world was not bombs, but of fireworks. Where her sky was not filled with bombs, but of kites. In that world, she would not be lying on rubble with blood trickling down her face. She would be on a grassy field, watching the clouds with her much-alive family
Chunks of rubble and glass, and probably human anatomy, flew overhead, interrupting her view of an alternate life. The world rushed back to her all at once. Her ears were filled with screams, her mouth filled with the metallic tang of blood and her body seemed to be engulfed in flames. Except it wasn’t – apart from the blood trickling down her head, she was untouched. Unlike her brother, her beautiful mother, and her unborn sister, she was still here.
She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be happy about that.
When she stood, her feet stepped in a puddle. She didn’t need to look down to know what it was. Walking, almost floating to the once-standing doorway, she looked around. She had expected her neighborhood to be gone – that always happened – but did not expect this amount of pain. But again, of course, this devastation would happen – there was a hospital just 5 minutes away from her house. It must have been hit. Blood-splattered debris was everywhere. A man ran through the street with two stained grocery bags. He wailed, holding them up for everyone to see. Detached from reality, she wondered why the grocery bags were dripping red. She watched as he pleaded for someone to help him. No one did – everyone was either dead or limping around like zombies with no purpose. The babies were crying, the women were wailing, and the men were sitting with their heads in their palms. This was her country. Her life for as long as she could imagine. Not once in her entire life had she not seen blue and white coloured bombs plunging from the sky.
She did not cry. She used to. Used to scream at how unfair it was that she was just a kid with dreams, and had to deal with death so young. Now, she had no reason to – the only thing that mattered was her family, and they were gone too. She couldn’t bring herself to offer help. Instead, she looked up. Up at the fire-streaked sky, the ash-filled air, up at the pathway to another life. Up at the chunk of metal that was streaking towards her.
She was not scared of it, not one bit. She stared it down, watched it come towards her and her neighborhood, unfazed. Sounds around her muted, life moved in slow motion, and all she could hear was her heart beating. A steady thump, over and over. The one stable thing in her life, while her world was being torn apart. Strangely, peace washed over her. She smiled softly, picturing her mama’s outstretched hands and warm embrace.
She saw a bright light first, then everything went dark.
