The Most Difficult Phase Of Life.

• Zahra Al Haloob, Grade 10, Pascoe Vale Girls Secondary College
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

Here we are, standing near the shore of the ocean. Following my stone as it was flying in the air ready to splash in water.
Flash backing the screaming of my mother as she was telling us to run away from the house. My young brothers and sisters held my mother tight as we tried to run away from the Taliban; they were forcing us to get out of the house that midnight. Throwing all our precious belongings and burning our books. I tried to push them away as they got my mother’s jewellery but I had no chance. They put their guns in my face meaning that if I disobey them, I will get shot. My younger siblings were outside waiting in the cold rain for my mother and me to get out. I couldn’t get outside because I needed to wear my Burqa but it wasn’t in sight…
“Where is it!!? Oh god please be with me and help me find it”. I constantly repeated quietly, knowing that if they heard me they will take me. Mum looked at me and all I could see were tears rushing down her face. This was because she had a feeling they would take her away. We only have her, our father passed away 2 years ago, due to all the depression he had when 3 of my younger siblings died. They all died in a bomb when we were on a mission to get water. The loss of them was really hard to just let go. If the Taliban took my mum we would be lost.
Yes, they took my mother. We were screaming and trying to hold on to her, hitting the Taliban soldiers and just crying. They took her to a jail that we weren’t allowed to go near only if our parents were with us. We don’t have any relatives in Afghanistan, not even friends. We are like strangers because we don’t know much people. The people we know have all passed away, some close friends live in other countries but they were too far to possibly get to. After the heartbreaking and emotional moment when they took my mother, we didn’t know where to go. Just watching our house burn down. Tears rushed down my cheeks as I watched. It almost felt like a dream, no a nightmare. Pinching myself over and over again wanting to wake up in my beautiful bed and seeing my lovely mother and father, my young siblings as they always come and jump on my bed. I have no idea where to take my siblings.
“Mama!” is what Fatema just called me which is the youngest little sister; she loves me like a mother. Due to the empty space where mum was, Fatema has used me as her mother. “What a great future am I going to have?” I said.
Here we are now, on the shore of the ocean remembering mum. “Is she remembering us?”