War Whispers

Excellence Award in the 'Read Write Repeat 2015' competition

Guns fire in the twilight hours of the night, continuous unstoppable noise. War, that is the word I believe they call it. When we learn to hate in an instance another's loved one. A truly poor example of the marvellous things we are capable of.
More terrified cries of soldiers ring in the distance. No escape. We could all die tonight, I could die tonight. Stillness surrounds me, loved ones gather in corners as a man solemnly hums a German lullaby. The sorrow that hangs in the air catches me with every sharp breath I take. It clings onto hope, creating despair as we cross the names off a list for the men that will not be coming home tonight.
The ringing in my ears brings me back to the harsh reality, the unfathomable surreal reality. We cramp ourselves into corners, mildew and dampness consuming our ability to smell. However, I can still smell the death and the smoke, that is walking a few feet above us. I am not easily tricked.
The resolution of the never ending blood shed cannot be seen or grasped by the hands of humanity; we have already sacrificed so much, too much. The Star of David is used as a weapon against those who have faith. We are now fighting Gods, not people.
The crowded room is cold, too cold in fact, I can barely take a breath without an icy claw gripping my throat. Darkness suffocates me, no light, no hope. Eyes closed, I carve an image from my memories, there is no other distraction. I can see the once glistening waters that surrounded my village, many foreigners would compare it to the lights shimmering in time square, or an aurora...
Another bomb pierces our ear drums. That is what the men here call the sound of death, as it is usually the last thing you hear. Each catastrophic beast hits one after the other, wreaking havoc with each blast. The children down here play a game, as they are not truly aware of the cruelty, they like to guess whose houses will be gone when we emerge, if we emerge. I do not wish to participate, this game cannot unclench my fists and white knuckles.
The icy walls echo screams and dust begins to shiver from the ceiling. No less than 200 metres away, a bomb has hit, the children 'ooh' and 'ahh' with excitement, mother’s cry into their handkerchiefs and other’s grip rosary beads. Another and another falls, then boom.
The world is a cloud of dust, nothingness, just a billow of smoke. I am not cold any longer, I can clearly see the sparkling waters as they once were, without debris and ice. I feel content, tranquil. My parents are here, greeting me with warm loving brown eyes, oh how I have missed them. I hear the whispers of children and feel a soft spring breeze. I am away from the war and its repercussions. I am at peace.

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