The Lead Up

• Simon Agha, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2022

I woke up suddenly to a loud, recurring noise. I checked the time and it was too early to be up. I swiftly ran to the kids’ room upon hearing them distressed by it; screaming, eyes bucketing. I comforted them, putting them back to sleep.
To get an understanding of the noise, I opened my window. I recognised it immediately. They were air raid sirens. I didn’t think much of it, since they’d mistakenly gone off 2 months ago. This was different though, the sirens were going for much longer.
It wasn’t long until I heard it. BANG! It was accompanied by another 5. Screams of terror followed the missiles. My heart sank. This was for real.
I began to come in touch with reality. These could be our last moments. Something similar happened 10 years ago. I was only 15 the first time I heard those sirens. I’d developed a strong sense of fear. My sister, 11 at the time, ran outside, my mother running after her.
A plane approached us, so fast, you’d miss it if you blinked. Large objects flew to the ground. It felt like a movie. I believed I was going to die. Then came the explosions, so loud, I’d gone deaf. An eruption of debris flew into the sky. Involuntarily, I flew into the wall, struggling to get to my feet. Glass shattered over the floor, cutting me all over. I was in agonising pain.
“HELP!” I yelled, petrified. “MUM!” Glassware had flown out the drawers and shattered on the ground. The oven door flew off. Our house was a wreck. As I went to look for my mum and sister, I heard my sister scream, louder than ever. That was it. Her final moments. They took my mother away from me, forever.
The kids. I immediately raced to them and took them to the car. I lived close to the border so without thinking, I packed a few bags. I sped along the road through horrifying piles of corpses and rubble. I could only look in horror. As we neared the border, I encountered a 2 kilometre line, waiting. This will take forever.
Upon approaching the end, an announcement was made. “Men, aged 18-48 must remain and fight.” The kids cried, asking what was wrong.
“You’ll be alright, it’s okay.”
I hid my fear from them, frantically yelling for somebody who could take care of my kids.
“I myself have two kids, I'll be happy to take yours across,” a young lady offered to help.
“Yes please, take good care of them. God bless your family,” I responded. I was so grateful yet terrified for my children’s sake. That was the last I’d spoken to her. I hadn’t even gotten her name.
I bawled my eyes out for the first time in years, hugging my children, saying my last goodbyes. I needed to fight for this country, no matter the cost. It was my only choice for me to see my children again. One thought came to my head, ‘Victory’.