Smoke burned my
eyes as I ran for shelter. Another bomb was about to drop from the plane and I
did not want to be anywhere near the explosion.
I dove under a crumpled home and curled into a ball hoping that I would be
safe one more day.
I shut my eyes tightly
envisioning the life I had before the war. It was painful, but in life
threatening moments, it would be more painful to not remember anything. It
seems all I do now is remember.
The ground
trembled beneath my figure. The bomb must have finally hit the ground. I wonder
how many friends I lost this time –I don’t want to think about it!-? I’ve lost
so many that I couldn’t even begin to count them all. Counting. It’s something I do now. Days, deaths, bombs, bodies. I even count the
appendages left on my body because too often, I see people with their arms or legs gone.
I really like this. It's very descriptive and paints an image for the reader.
ReplyDelete