"Sh....you're okay....I'm here....I'm right here...." My mother whispers to the young boy in her arms, praying to everything she knew that this wasn't how it would end.
Tears roll down her cheeks like the river behind us, thrashing and rolling as it sends a thousand thoughts down the earth. Nothing in the earth and sky could save us now. So I tuck myself deep into my mother's arms and pull my brother close as the sky starts crumbling above us. Buildings are being ripped apart in every direction, bits of rubble flying past us. A stone hits my arm like a bullet and I cry out. Mother pulls me closer and I feel my brother's hands clasp themselves around mine. Father's body lay beside us, a soft smile on his face. Almost as if he knew we were coming back to him. Wrenching an arm out of my brother's firm grasp, I grab father's arm and hang on as if the wind might blow him away. Stone after stone hits my arm, but I never loosen my grip. A piece of debris hits my neck and I crumple in my mother's arms, letting her sobs lull me to sleep. The world seems to close in around us, taking my hand and pulling me away from the fear. I feel warmth for the first time in many years. A figure appears in the distance, beckoning for me. I pull myself away from the fighting and run towards him. My father holds me close in his arms, running his hand through my hair. Finally bringing me home.
YOU ARE READING
If Wishes Could Fly
Short StoryA collection of short stories and poems for when I'm feeling inspired to write or have intense writer's block.
