WAR

• Behice Kara, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2012

I’m sitting underneath a tree situated on the hill in front of our refuge camp, gazing at where my house was destroyed only a few years ago. I come up on this hill everyday and get a good view of things, to get away from everyday life. Not that I can make a difference. I can still hear the roar of those jets flying high in the sky, observing the city’s every move.

I feel a chill up my spine as one zooms out of sight. They fly over our city as though they own it. I come up on this hill and watch those planes- it’s all you can watch, really. Everyday I yearn for a place without war, where people can all agree. But, I’m imagining because there is no place in the world where people don’t find something to disagree about. And ‘war’ is why people loose their homes and loved ones. Just like me. My memories went down with my home. My lovely home, where my first few steps were taken. My home, were I had my anniversaries with my lovely wife. It only took one ghastly gunner and one button to destroy all those unrepairable memories into a pile of rubble.

I remember that day clearly, coming home from a difficult and tiring day of working in a factory. I had a sickly feeling but brushed it aside. Why would I? I would come home to loving wife, two beautiful children and a vey ill mother. But I was wrong. As I got closer to my home, I just couldn't stop thinking that I would be confronted with something horrendous. So involuntarily I broke into a jog, trying to keep my daily earnings – a loaf of bread – in its bag. My long wavy hair was getting into my eyes. And as I turned the corner I couldn't help but give out a cry of grief. There was my beautiful family standing in front of a heap of rubble which used to be my home, all of them weeping. It took a while for me to understand the actual reason of their weeping. My mother had died while they were destroying my house. They had taken two of the most important things away from me at once. The pain was excruciating.

One man can’t stop a war… or can he? I would always hope that I could make a difference. I can feel my cheeks form a smile. I shrug and get up. I better get back before they realise I was gone; If I’m not there for name checking, I’m dead. But I just can’t shake that good feeling off. I tread down the hill with a wide smile for everyone to see.