War Affects Everyone

• Samantha Greenan, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2013

I wish this day had never happened. What was supposed to be a normal day in Kabul (the capital of Afghanistan)turned out to be the most tragic day of my life.

The Taliban (the men controlling Afghanistan)tore down our door and took my brother Handsu away. Dad tried to stop them but the Taliban just beat him up. The Taliban forced my brother to join them and there was nothing we could do about it. Most of the men in the Taliban were never to be seen again as they died in the raging war in Afghanistan.

My father Karzia, cautiously walked my mother Daywa around the many landmines scattered everywhere in the street (or what's left of it) to go to the bakery to get food. My mother and father are usually only able to get a piece of bread (that we all would share) as that's all they could afford because the Taliban banned all women from working, so our money became less and less. Although it was only a small morsel to eat, it was just enough to survive.

Women are no longer allowed to go outside freely without getting severely punished by the Taliban so my father had to accompany my mother. She must also now wear a burqa otherwise she would also be punished by the Taliban.

I waited hours and hours for them to come back, yet there was absolutely no sign of them. I had seen what the Taliban had done to women who disobeyed their orders by going outside without a man and it was the worst form of punishment there is, death. Yet waiting on my own in the middle of a war without my parents, hoping that I wouldn't get bombed or raided by the Taliban, was worse.

Taking a risk, I started heading off to the bakery my parents usually went to. On the way there I saw people starving. I saw houses utterly destroyed by bombs. I saw people with severe injuries. There was no one in Afghanistan who was not scarred by this war.

Suddenly, I saw what had happened to my parents. What used to be a bakery was no more. Many bodies were scattered everywhere. My parents would be amongst them. Yet there was nothing I could do as the Taliban were around.

Many tears were gushing down my face like a river and I head home. All I could feel was grief. My loss was so overwhelming that I didn’t even feel sorry for the starving or injured people, any of the houses that were destroyed and all those who had lost loved ones, because of this wretched war.

I got back to my house only to find out the bombs had got there before me. My house was utterly ruined and our few belongings were destroyed.

I am now homeless, alone, starving and full of grief.

Will I survive this war, or die too?