Terror Of War

• Shanush Prema Thasarathan, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2013

Evidence of distress fills the dangerous street. Anxious villagers scan the sky from their front lawns, listening for any early warning. Milk in one hand, rice in the other. I doubt my chances of survival. As I cross the village, I notice. A child lies on the floor. One ear placed to the ground. Curious friends watch with tension. Their only early warning system.

He looks up in terror.
“Hide ... Hide, They Are Coming!” The child shouts as loudly as his small lungs allow.

Panic rushes through the village. Shovels are thrown into the air. Pots knocked out of place. Their current work stops without hesitation.

“They are coming!”

The news travels through the air. Slammed window panes shatter in disbelief. Before I know it, I see it. They ARE coming.

Long pieces of metal swing on top of a long fish-shaped body. The sound of the beaten air floods the surroundings. Adrenaline rushes through my body. Doors shut with hope of safety. The air-borne machinery approaches swiftly, closer, closer. Streets left deserted. Everyone, together, is in their lock down positions. I, alone, the only exception.

Still holding my milk and rice, I dash to the far side of the village. The door gunner is clearly visible. He positions himself near the edge. I make eye contact with him, approaching. My legs race with fright. I might have a chance. I hear him. The sounds of the barrel locked in place are loud and clear. The string of bullets, once around his waist, now sit hanging from the gun.

The bullets are fired. One. Miss. Two. Miss. Quick. Quick. Fall. Pretend to be dead. Three, miss. This is my only chance. Four, miss. Stay still on the ground. Five, miss. Stay absolutely still. Six...