Short Stories

A Gaza Special

He sat there on the deserted and blood-stained ground with only a tattered shirt to cover his frail and bruised body. He could hear explosions almost every hour and he was scared. He knew no one here, this was not his house, this was not where his mother was. As he stood to his feet and started walking, he spotted corpses lying on the ground, some of them covered in blood, others turned completely black, carbonised by the explosion of yet another bomb. He needed to find his mother, that's all he knew. Bodies littered the floor everywhere and once in a while, he would see some officers coming to take the bodies away in their vans. He wanted to approach them, he wanted to ask the men walking around his homeland with deadly weapons in their hand where his mother was but he would never do that.

" They're not human. They kill people without motives. They just like the sight of blood and the thrill of killing. Don't ever trust them, you hear me? " He remembered his father saying before he set out to look for some food. He never returned home. Tears prickled at his eyes from the memory and he quickly walked away from them. He was getting closer to his house, he could recognise his neighbourhood and the small houses, or what was left of them, lining the street. He jumped and covered his ears with his little hands as another loud boom resonated. He could hear people crying, some howling in pain, others imploring the Almighty's pity and he forced himself to ignore them. He just needed to find his mother and he would be alright. He didn't even know what was happening, he was born in this atmosphere of death and doom. He could still remember his grandfather saying:

" We are all doomed." before he closed his eyes for the last time. He had never understood what the old man meant but he was starting to see it now. There was no getting out of here, they were all condemned to stay in this hole and they would all perish like the ones before them.

" Our crime, my son, is that we are muslims. " His mother had once told him while she was feeding him little pieces of the stale bread his father had managed to find. It didn't taste good but it helped to tame his hunger.

" They don't care about us. We are poor, we don't have weapons and to top it all, we are muslims. They would never help us. "

As he stepped into a tent, he was instantly overwhelmed by the stench of blood but he pushed it to the back of his head as he scanned the multiple faces.

" Mom, Mom! " He yelled as he spotted his mother lying by herself in a corner of the tent. He ran to her, almost tripping on a dead body on his way. Her eyes were closed, her lips dry and cracked along with a trail of dried blood down her face from her right ear. Even injured and bleeding, she still looked like an angel. He lifted his mother's right arm and snuggled close to her, her hand resting on his back as he clutched her torn dress in his small fists. That's it, he thought, I'm safe now. I can sleep now.

" Hey you, you shouldn't be in here! " He was yanked from his dreamless sleep by a chubby man and a woman dressed in a white coat and a skirt shaking him awake. He was confused and instinctively shuffled closer to his mother. She would protect him, she always did. The woman tried to touch him but he quickly batted her hand away, he could trust no one here.

" How did you get in here? " The woman tried again in a much softer tone and he could already feel his defense crumbling down.

" I was looking for my mom. " he mumbled, his mother was still asleep beside him.

" He really shouldn't be in here. " The chubby man said, his voice raspy from years of smoking cheap cigarettes, " If anyone sees him in the morgue, they'll kill him."

A morgue? What's a morgue? His mind fumbled for an answer but he came up with nothing.

" Are you hungry? C'mon, let's get you something to eat." the woman tried to hold his hand but he flinched away from her touch.

" I'm not going anywhere without my mom. You should bring something for her to eat, she always gives me all of her food. "

" Um, I doubt it she'll be able to eat." The chubby man scoffed and the woman slapped his arm with a horrified expression,

" Abdul! " She screeched, " He's only a child!"

" What? I'm just stating the truth. She's dead, he needs to know, he has the right to." The woman looked horrified as she turned back towards the child.

" Hey hey, do you have a father? a brother? anyone?" The woman was trying but he completely ignored her, his hands covering his ears as he shook his head, tears streaming down his already blotchy cheeks. He didn't need to hear that, his mother was not dead, she was just sleeping. She'd wake up at any time and make sure that he'd eaten. She was his guardian angel, angels didn't die, did they?
" Calm down," he allowed the woman to hold him, he was too shocked to even push her away, he just wanted his mother to wake up, was that too much to ask?
" Listen to me," the woman cupped his cheeks, " She's in a better place now."
As much as he wanted to disagree and say that this was all a big fake lie, he knew that she was right. She died as a martyr and she would now go to heaven. She would no longer suffer from this atrocious poverty, she would finally be happy.
" C'mon,let's get you out of here." He scrambled to his feet and walked towards his mother's body. As he bent down to kiss her cheek for the last time, he could hear the sirens of the ambulance nearing the tent. He allowed the woman in the white coat to pick him up and carry him outside. His eyes were tightly squeezed shut as he heard yet another bomb exploding. He couldn't help but wonder how many kids had just been orphaned by this explosion.
He hated the Israelians for being such heartless beasts, hated his country for being so poor, hated himself for being so helpless. What was going to happen to him now? Was it going to get better or was he going to end up just like his mother? The woman left him in another tent with children just like him and promised to come check on him later. He had a feeling she was lying but stayed silent anyway. What would it change to his situation anyway? No one is going to get away. He, just like thousands of other children, was born in this atmosphere of doom. They will grow up this way and will end up dying pathetically in a ridiculous bloodbath for power and territory because of their nationality and religion. Nothing gets better, the world is just full of kings and queens who blind your eyes and steal your dreams.

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Author Note:
I wrote this because i find this war going on in Gaza disgusting. I'm probably going to get a lot of hateful messages but I'm against child slaughter and what they are doing is horrible.
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