Before Our Dawn| ongoing

nine

chapitre neuf
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It was a long journey ahead, back to Algeria, back to a life that now seemed so uncertain and unstable.

As the train lurched forward, Isra looked out the window, watching as the familiar sights of Paris gave way to the countryside. The first time she had ever been on a train had been upon her arrival in Paris, and as uneasy as she was that day, trapped in this hulking load of moving metal, that was how she felt today as they were flying through the landscape. The train's rhythmic motion lulled Isra into a trance-like state, and she found herself lost in thought, gazing out at the rolling hills and fields of green that stretched out before her. It was as if the landscape was a reflection of her own life - everything that had once been so certain was now changing, and she couldn't quite make sense of it all.

Isra stole a glance at her father, who sat across from her with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. She knew he was angry with her, but she still couldn't understand why.

Her mother sat next to her, looking out the window with a quiet resignation. She had always been the peacemaker in the family, but even she seemed to be at a loss as to how to repair the rift between father and daughter.

The train pulled into Marseille, and they disembarked, finding a taxi outside of the station that would drive them to the dock. The car ride was worse than the train ride, and the closer they came to the dock, the better she could see it in the distance, the ships looming large against the horizon. One ship, in particular, caught her eye, its name emblazoned on its side in bold letters: the SS Ville d'Alger.

Isra's heart quickened as she gazed at the majestic vessel that would carry her back to her homeland. The ship seemed to tower above the others, its imposing size a reminder of the journey that lay ahead. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it, transfixed by the idea of what awaited her on board. The bustle of the port, the smell of the sea, the sound of the gulls – all of it seemed to come together in a heady mix, creating an atmosphere that was at once exhilarating and daunting.

Her father paid the taxi driver and gathered their luggage, each of them carrying one suitcase each. There were people shouting and jostling, luggage being loaded onto carts and onto the ships. Isra clung tightly to her mother's hand, lost and small in the midst of all the activity.

She stepped onto the gangplank, the wooden boards creaking beneath her feet. She looked up at the imposing figure of the ship, its metal hull gleaming in the bright sunlight. The officials at the dock were as unpleasant as ever, scrutinizing their documents with suspicious eyes and making snide comments about their ethnicity. Isra was used to it by now, but it still stung, the words like tiny barbs against her skin.

They stood together on the deck, and her eyes were scanning the horizon as they sailed out to sea. The breeze was cool against her face, the smell of the saltwater mixing with the scent of the ship's engines. Her family was nearby, but the tension between them was palpable. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread, the sense that this journey would be long and arduous. But even so, she couldn't deny the thrill of returning home, of seeing Algeria again after so long. She tried to focus on that, on the beauty of her homeland and the warmth of its people.

In half an hour, they were ready to set sail.

As the ship sailed further and further away from Marseille, Isra gazed out at the vast expanse of the sea, the gentle rocking of the ship soothing her troubled mind. The distant shores of Algeria beckoned to her, promising adventure, challenges, and most importantly, the chance to reunite with the people she loved most in the world. And so, with a deep breath and a fierce resolve, Isra braced herself for the journey ahead, ready to embrace whatever lay in store for her.