My Soil

A short story on a thirteen- year old boy who declares his right over his nation's soil...

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2. My soil...

The day father left us was one of the most relieving but worrying day of our lives. It was a relief because on one hand my brother, mother and I would never have to deal with the arguing again but it was worrying because Pa was the only one in the family bringing in a steady income. When he left, things were a little less tense, my mother was receiving money from her father but she still had a look of desperation in her eyes.

Ma would sing lullabies to my brother before he fell asleep, it would play on in my mind repeatedly like a song on replay. Her voice could make even angels cry. She would never show us the sorrow she felt inside, she never wanted us to feel the way she did. Her eyes are dark and large, just by looking at them you will be able to tell that she had seen some pretty rough times.it is as if god had bestowed upon her arms simply so that she could hug us and make us feel loved. Words will never be able to express the love i have for my mother.

The next morning was the most terrifying and shocking day of my life. I could hear sirens, screaming and crying. What once was laughing and smiling had turned to mourning and grieving. Everywhere i looked, there was blood and bodies. Bodies that only the day before were running around freely and innocently.

One body that i saw, was a childhood friend of mine. I was bombarded with numerous amounts of memories that ripped out my heart. He made me feel better after my Ma and Pa had their arguments. He was with me all day and night when i once broke my leg. He was the big brother i never had.

Buildings had totally collapsed and the ones that were still up were severly damaged. Children from barely three years old were crying, searching for their mothers. Wait... where is my brother and Ma?

''SON! SON!'' my mother's voice was screaming for me. As i turned around i saw ma and my baby brother holding her hand. My ma grabbed my arm as a tigress would hold her cub. She was holding me so hard that not even the world's strongest man could free me from her. We ran and we ran. I picked my brother up and ran. I had no idea what was going on at the time...

As we were running, i turned my head for a split second. I saw tanks heading towards our direction. I looked up and i saw their nation's air forces invading our skies like the way they invaded our land and freedom. I heard a loud bomb explode. I looked back and saw the house i grew up in shatter to pieces. My mind was in shock.

As i was running, flashbacks of the rare happy moments in that house showed up in my head. My brother's first steps. My ma and pa laughing together - something that i perceived to be loved. Running around with my brother having the time of my life. Reality had then hit me. Everything was gone.

''Keep running!'' shrieked ma, i felt myself becoming more dehydrate, my knees growing weaker by the second but i ignored the pain, i had my brother in my arms so i wouldn't stop running even if something had shot. It felt like i was in a war zone. We ran until we reached my grandfather's house. My grandpa rushed us into the basement, dark, scary, gloomy but safe.

I have been in my grandpa's basement since; i cannot control the tears that fall down my cheeks when i think of my house and my friends who were destroyed and killed. I am finding it hard to console my brother and ma. Our houses were destroyed by people who think they have the right to just take away innocent lives, homes - children. Everywhere i look, conflict just appears in my life; i look up at famous leaders such as the prime minister and see how he is in conflict with oppressors. The soil that is under my feet is my soil, is my family's soil, is my nation's soil - their nation cannot come and snatch it away from us. Look at the ground, my soil is in conflict with their soil. I've grown up an angry individual, but as a wise man once said ''An eye for an eye will only make the whole world blind''...
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