I remember. I remember the day it all began. It was unbelievable. It was astonishing. It was terrifying. I remember the day as if it was yesterday. It started in the sky. There were lots of black and grey machines flying in the sky and we all looked up confused. Some of the adults were ushering their kids in the house. Others just looked up and watched in confusion or in shock. Then it came all at once; a thundering tsunami of noise, a culmination of screaming, explosions, and firing. I was only 9 at the time. My parents grabbed my brother's hand and my own and we ran. I don't know where we were running to. My parents were leading us. My brother, who was 8, and myself were just being pulled along, nonetheless, we held on to our parent's hands as tightly as possible. If I had known that was to be the last time to hold my parents hands, I would've held on even tighter.
I never found out where my parents were taking us or if they were even taking us to a particular place, they could've just been taking us to find someplace safe from the assault. All I know was that at one moment I was holding my father's hand then I wasn't. There was an explosion. I felt a force push me back then a ringing in my ears before a silence even though I knew cognitively that around me everything was but silent. I remember feeling a heavy weight on top of me and opening my eyes. My body was numb and my ears were ringing and although hazy for that moment, I could still see. I could see the monstrous machines turn my present and future upside down and there was nothing I, a 9-year-old girl, could do about it. I saw the houses become destroyed and shattered, the buildings falling and burning, and the families being torn apart. Everything I knew, being torn apart. Then my sight failed me and all I saw was an inviting darkness, a respite from a nightmare that was to become my reality.
***
When I next woke, I was being dragged to a large wagon. The wagon was filled with people who all passed on. I started screaming my head off and crying. Surprised, the man’s grip failed and I landed with a light thump on the broken cement. I felt my stomach heave at the sight of the open eyes and mouths coming from the wagon. I noticed a hand of my mother’s sticking out from somewhere in the middle, I know it was her hand because she was wearing the gold wedding ring from my father and another ring with her birthstone, a dark blue sapphire, on a different finger. The top of my father’s head was not far from my mother’s hand. I emptied my stomach right there from the gory sight. After the torrent from my stomach ceased I stood up. One thought crossed my mind, my little brother. Where was he?
I looked towards where the man who had been dragging me to the wagon of dead stood, he was back to collecting more of the dead. He wasn’t the only one; I saw at least a dozen others doing the same. With a rushed stride, I had hurried over to him. I tugged on the back of his shirt to grab his attention, ignoring the pain from the aching arm that I later found out to be broken.
“Did you see a boy, about my age, around where I was lying?! Please tell me!” I pleaded.
“No, there was only you, along with a man and a woman. That’s all I know.” The stranger replied and continued with his arduous task. My brother was missing. I asked everybody I came in contact with about the whereabouts of my little brother, Carter, but nobody knew anything. I searched for days but the result was only more despair. To this day, I still don’t know where he is, or even, if he is alive. My name is Nerida and this is my story.
To be continued...
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