War From My Window

• Nares Surubeng, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2019

It was a hot summer midnight. I was completely scared to death. Everybody in the house was terrifying. Dad closed and locked all doors, windows and put the dark curtains on. He even turned the lights off. We gathered on the second floor, in the living room, holding hands, praying and crying. We left our cosy and comfortable beds unattended.
Inside the house, I heard the sound of gun shootings. Once. Twice. From the dark curtains, I saw dancing flames across the street. The buildings were on fire. Then the big fireball was blasting. A bomb. The walls were shaking. Our hearts were trembling and shaking even louder and longer.
From the second floor, I heard the sound of stomping shoes. A group of young men in uniforms. I could not see them in the darkness. From their voices, I knew they were men and young. I just remembered them from the history book at school. About the soldiers who defend the country. The patriots.
They were walking, running, marching, talking and yelling in loud voices. Their guns were shooting in different directions. Many times. I felt very scared and so did the rest of family members. Suddenly I realised that they were not the patriots. They were not defending our country. They were the people that I did not know. I could not understand why they were here.
Gun shootings continued. Bomb blasting did not stop. Dad asked all of us to lay down on the cold marble floor. We were sitting together very close to each other. My eyes could not be closed. My head could not stop thinking. The first ever war I experienced from my window.