A day

Ghost Town

The night was cold. The sky held no clouds and a deadly breeze blew in stale smoke, ash, and rubble. The constant thunder of guns and explosions beating in our ears, a continuous reminder of the life we lead. A cool breeze blew through the gaps in the walls, covering our bodies with yet another icy layer. Maya crawled in closer to me, slowly absorbing my warmth, and pulling her small blanket tighter around herself. Her eyes were shut tight against the dangers outside, small lines occupied her forehead, yet a tiny smile was spread across her face. I could tell she was dreaming of mother and father. I didn't have the heart to tell her they were not coming back. It's been 3 years, but I can never build up the courage. She is still oblivious. Soon the moon would be high and the guns would quieten. The thunderous explosions would be barely audible and we would be safe for a few hours. I would finally have to close my eyes and endure yet another restless night.

I woke up early the next morning, small needles of light broke through the thin layers of wood holding our small house together. Maya was still asleep, her delicate head resting on my lap. Carefully, I picked up her head and lay it on the solid mattress. She immediately spread out her nimble limbs, using up all of the now sudden amount of space. I slowly walked over to the doorway and took away the piece of wood that jammed the door shut. The icy breeze hit me squarely in the face as I frantically tried to pull my small blanket tighter around my shoulders.

The town we live in looks like a ghost town. All of the houses are broken and ruined, slabs of wood have been hastily nailed across windows and doors, trying to block out all of the dust and ash that gets blown into our small shacks. I grab a small bucket from next to our bed and start my walk to the town center. A large shell hole has erupted in the town center. Over the years the large hole has drastically filled up with water. I make my way towards the waterhole and fill up our small bucket. The water is dirty and brown and looks like bad milo. Small bits of rubble, dirt, and leaves float lazily on the water's surface. I sit on the edge of the hole and start picking out chunky pieces from our water.

Most of the houses in our town no longer have people living in them. Our town used to have hundreds of people, living and thriving in the comfortable space. Maya and I lived happily with our parents and aunt. Aunty used to take us to the small well every day. It was only a short walk from home to the well and we were always back before lunch. For the rest of the day, we used to help mother with the housework, while father went to work in the coal mines. One day aunty went out to get water on her own. Maya was sick and had a raging fever. Mother was too busy to look after her, so I stayed home to help get her well. Aunty left early in the morning to collect the water. She said she'd take an extra bucket just for Maya. That made her smile. By midday the sun was high and hot. I was sitting at Maya's bedside, sponging her hot little head with a damp cloth and telling her a story. A loud bang rang out from the city center. Several more bangs followed shortly after. Maya and I sat there stunned. Mother abandoned her housework and began ripping up her precious furniture. She ripped paintings from the walls, smashed plates and tore apart rooms.

Horrified I stared at my mother, tears began rolling down her face as she planted a quick kiss on Maya's forehead before leaving her on the bed, urging her to be quiet.

"Mother!" I screamed. She stopped abruptly, staring at the cream wall and now torn leather couch. Tears were streaming down her face as she pulled me into a tight hug. She tried to explain as she whispered frantically into my ear. I had only caught a few of her words; hide, protect her, I'll find you, I love you. With that she left me, running out the door and yelling. Her voice full of emotion. My mother had looked different that day. She was full of worry, her hair was frazzled and her eyes were red and swollen. Her normally pristine clothes were now dirty and stained. Voices followed her out onto the street. Voices and screams. Bangs and explosions. Yelling. Then silence.

I now realize what happened that day. Why aunty never came back from the well. Why father never came home from work. Why mother ran out onto the street, yelling and screaming. That day was the beginning of the war. The beginning of a ruthless war that has now been raging on for 3 long years. Maya had asked many times why the mother had left. Each time I told her the same thing, "she promised to come back, Maya. She'll come back, Maya." My little sister was always happy with that answer. 

I set the bucket of now chunk free water down beside me. Stretching my legs out as I take my time in standing up. Carefully, I start trudging my way back home. Opting to take a long way, so that I can glance in through shop windows checking for food, blankets, anything. Maya and I had long since abandoned shoes. They had begun getting too small and too frail for us to wear. We haven't found any since, but always keep an eye out whenever walking through town. Mother had many pairs of shoes, fancy heels, and shiny lace-ups. But we had traded them all for food a few years ago. Now, all we have left are our own two feet.

The door creaks open as I shove it with my shoulder. Maya comes rushing up to me, eager for a quick drink of water.

"Careful Maya," I warn her with a smile. She smiles back at me. Lifting the bucket up to her dry lips she takes a quick gulp. "Helps with the taste," she says. The bucket gets set down on a small wooden table. It gets slowly poured into a white cotton cloth, which gets drained into another bucket. A trick father taught me to help remove the dirt. Sprinting off, Maya runs around the shack, looking for food. She comes back with a grim look on her face. I can already tell she is disappointed about having to look for food. Tears begin to form in her eyes as my little sister lands heavily on the floor next to me, sending dust flying everywhere, she watches me work the water.

That must be the worst part of this war. Never having any food. Water is easy enough. It's always around somewhere, you just have to look. The food however, you have to find. I guess that's the reason why most of the people in this town left. They were either killed in the first rampage, or they chose to leave themselves. Maybe they thought it too dangerous. Maybe they thought there would be a better chance of finding food elsewhere. Whatever the reason, everyone's gone. Everyone except me and Maya.

Maya didn't want to leave, she put up a strong fight when I tried to convince her. She said that because everyone else was leaving, didn't mean we had to. She's pretty smart for a 10-year-old. She was top of her class before all of the chaos. I didn't want to leave either. No matter how hard I tried to convince Maya to go, I knew that I was always going to stay here. I had a plan. I would stay here a few months and wait for mother to come back. Maya would go with the others to a nice village, where there was no war and she would meet father and aunty. Soon mother and I would follow. That was before I truly knew what was going on. Before I truly knew that none of them were coming back.

I start doing my morning chores as I urge Maya to do the same. She's never been one for housework, but usually does it with a bit of convincing. I make my way through the list of; making sure the windows are boarded up, checking our food supply, making our small bed look neat and adding another blanket to our very large mending pile. We strip down the materials that cannot be saved. Strip them down to the threads, then use those threads for mending. Maya gets on with her chores, of packing a small bag with; two full flasks, small amounts of food and two long scarves. Soon we would begin our trek for food. We would venture out of the town, and to a small forest. There we would scavenge for berries, hunt rabbits or birds. We would rest under a tree when the sun got too hot and our feet began to burn. Then at the end of the day, we would make our way back home. Tired and hungry, we would sit on the floor and eat the small amount of food we save for each day.

Maya looked at me that night, tears in her eyes. 

"Mother's not coming back is she?" She mumbles into my ear, her voice heavy with dread and emotion. I shake my head, not daring to look into my little sister's eyes. She buries her head in the crook of my neck, tears streaming down her face. She whispers to me once more, her voice sounding choked.

"Let's go." She says. I smile sadly, relieved for her agreement of finally leaving. Finally being safe. Relieved that we can finally leave the ghost town. 

By Milla