Dreaming for freedom

Chapter 1

Be warned. This is going to be a a bad book. Be warned I'm bad at writing. But thankyou, so much, for choosing This story out of the uncountable amount out there. I hope you find that it is okay and enjoy this. Please vote, comment, if you wish to. And I guess we should Start This Story.

I live in a tunnel under England, hiding from the English with what was left of my family. The only reason I was here is because of my religion.

I am a Muslim.

I used to live in England, it was amazing in the countryside, there was lush green grass and tranquil blue summer skies that I could never stop gazing at. The busy London streets were friendly and it was possible to find anything. If we got fed up of it we could always retire to  our quiet home. 

It was perfect. 

Until Mum and Dad were killed. That was great, the total highlight of my life. 

That day started like any other, then in a matter of moments it changed my entire life.

Yasmine and I were in our sweet little garden, I was fingering my oak swing gently, breathing in the crisp morning air and watching the sun set, orange and red hues mingling together. 

Yasmine took my hand and looked up at me with her big hazel eyes. She was just five and had an adorable lisp," Sawah, why wid Reda lweave sgool westerday? Mwisses Hartone swaid gwood widdance Reda. What's gwoing on?  "

Reda was Yasmine's best friend, they used to do everything together. 

I pulled her towards me and sat on my swing, feeling Yasmine's soft brown hair slip through my hands, I was seven at that time. But I still loved Yasmine more than I can explain. She was my other half. Annoying, sweet, happy, my sister.

" Swo? " 

I glanced at her innocent little face and decided it was best she shouldn't know. Mum and Dad were certain we weren't leaving this country so we weren't. The scary man who showed pictures of dead muslims didn't matter, the people who hated us didn't matter. If Mum and Dad said we wouldn't  we wouldn't.

Or that was what I thought at the time. 

There was always hope. And there were always nice people.

" Maybe she had to go somewhere,an emergency. I'm sure she'll be fine, Yas, " I tried giving her hand a squeeze but she pulled away and looked angry.

" B-but shwe would've twold me, " Yasmine looked close to tears and turned away to stare at our garden, full of fruits and vegetables, herbs and flowers. 

How was I supposed to answer to that? I didn't know and I still don't know now.

She began to pull an apple off our tree, then paused, looking horrified.

My heart stopped at the sound that filled my ears.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Three gunshots filled that beautiful summer morning. The silence that followed rang in my ears, louder than anything I'd ever heard. My eyes widened in fear and I twisted around to see Yasmine staring at me in shock, not fooled by my heartless half-smile. I ushered her inside our house.

" Hey, it's okay, " I trembled, extremely shaken, trying to comfort Yasmine, " It's probably someone playing music too loud . . . Music with . . . special effects. "