Aylan woke up covered in soot and with a throbbing headache. Squinting his eyes to adjust to the sharp glint of sun, he licked his lips and tasted the dry salty blood and bitter grime.
With great difficulty, he stood up and gauged the destruction that laid before him. His village was reduced to a pile of rubble. He could hear familiar voices groaning in pain and crying for help. Flies buzzing and feeding on muddled bodies with limbs torn away and guts spilled out.
He managed to walk a few steps before he felt the heaviness weighing down his trousers. His hands rummaged through the pockets and pulled out an envelope containing the tickets his mother had bought before last night’s argument.
“I don’t want to leave the place I grew up in, Ammi.”
“It’s not safe to live here anymore. We’ve to escape. We’ll take the boat tomorrow and reach your uncle Musa’s town. From there, we’ll fly to Canada.”
He remembered the last bits of conversation before everything went bleak. The troops raided at night and blew up their houses and his mother.
Wiping his tears, Aylan wearily limped towards the western port to catch the boat.
N.B- The story is loosely based on the ongoing crisis in Syria. I tried to create a story focusing on the emotional aspect of the civil war. How it is affecting and forcing people to flee their homes in search of safe havens. My knowledge pertaining to the conflict is inadequate (mainly sourced from the updates available in newspapers, television or social media). I don’t intend to hurt anyone’s sentiments through this story.
Written for Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner
Photo- white-ship-traveling-through-vast-body-of-water-with-white-birds-flying-beside-879479 Pixel Photo
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