Wake Up From The Nightmare

Sometimes I think that I will finally wake up from this nightmare, that it will all be over.

I long for that day so much that it actually, physically, hurts.

I came here a long time ago, thinking that it would just be a short visit. I was fed up of my life, and I needed to get away from it all for a couple of days. Things were stressful; my friends had all abandoned me, my parents were constantly arguing, and my grades had declined severly. I thought a holiday would be the perfect thing to help.

Who knew that a holiday could turn into an imprisonment.

A war had broken out in Cairo, not one of those silly little ones that is over in a couple of days, a full-blown riot with guns and soldiers. My flight had been cancelled last Saturday, when I was meant to go home, and I was still trying to rebook. Which was pretty hard when there was no internet! Or phonelines.

In all honesty, I was scared, terrified infact.

You couldn't go anywhere, there was a strict curfew that only allowed you to step outside the boundaries of your home for a few hours. Or, in my case, a hotel.

What was making matters even worse, was that the food was running out. No flights coming in or out meant no supplies like water and meat coming in, which meant that the whole of Egypt relyed solely on their own produce.

The few times that I had ventured out onto the streets, I wished that I hadn't. There were children and elderly people on the trudging around, their gaunt faces dirty and sad. Beggars lined the doorways of closed up shops, their shaking hands held out infront of them, desperate for money that noone could spare anyway.

I handed one child who looked particularly needy a coin that I wasn't sure of the value. I guessed that something was better than nothing anyway.

After I had been out for about two hours, I returned to the hotel, and went up to my room to have a hot shower. Standing in the cubicle for about ten minutes ginerly sticking my finger into the bursts of water proved that there was no heating left, which equalled no hot shower.

I sighed, and flopped down on my bed. I reached out and opened the mini-bar, eyeing the small pot of Pringles and chocolate bars. I yearned for the taste of junk food, but a) the prices were outrageous, and b) I should probably save them for a time when they are absolutely necessary.

I switched on the tv, and watched the british news for a while. They were monitoring the situation, but soon they had nothing new, so I closed my eyes, listening to them repeating information that I already knew.

I wanted to go home.

I was only 17, I should be in my bedroom, poring over countless papers and books to keep up with my A Levels.

I had been here for nearly 3 weeks now. I just wanted to be back in my own bed, eating whatever I wanted, watching whatever I wanted on tv. I should've listened to my parents, they never wanted me to come here by myself.

"Don't go, Keira, it's not a good idea!"

But I wanted to prove my independence. Stupid, stupid me.

A bang outside my bedroom window caused my eyes to fly open. I sat up and clambered under the covers. Why is it you always feel safer under those milimeters of cotton sheets?

Screaming came from the lobby downstairs, and I started to shake vigorously.

A tear rolled down my face.

I reached over to the bedside table, and picked up my iPod. And then, I did the only thing I could think to do in a situation like this.

I sang...

 

 

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