The Unfolding Tragedy | Teen Ink

The Unfolding Tragedy

April 22, 2014
By albaschirinzi BRONZE, Tirana, Other
albaschirinzi BRONZE, Tirana, Other
4 articles 0 photos 9 comments

“Faster! Run faster!”
As he felt the adrenaline growing, Tom couldn’t stop hearing the ticks of a massive clock in his mind.
“Tick, tock, tick, tock”.
Without them, Tom could barely determine his excistence as passing through the vacuum he was caught in.
“Tick, tock, tick, tock”.
He could feel the other soldiers looking at him while the hot breeze blows on his hungry and dry mouth as he could also feel his thoughts racing over his tight empty stomach. He could feel the presence of the only islamic women walking by who had been left alive and the look of contempt they had in their tiny little dark eyes full of horror and outrage.
He could taste the warm sick irony of the situation and the fact that this was now another place in the world where the “crime” they all said they would never allow it to happen again.
He could notice the tragedy unfold while the nations of the free world would trun their heads, thinking of chritmas and charity, and towards those in need, forgetting they themselves were once victims. They were probably celebrating their freedom, something that they all had expected for a long long time and was said that it would come one day faster than they would expect it, but here he was, running throught the damage place under the peacefull and coloudless blue sky of Nuba which slowly moved amost as it would fall out.
Over the past three years, Tom had learnt that building fear and confusion in the conditions where he had been sent could be the easiest thing he could achieve from this experience. At the age of 13, when he was first sent in the army to pay the dept of his poor and sick father he would often hear: “If you want to be a soldier, you have to start thinking like one”.
This sentence would often raise the soldiers’s hope and courage rate but Tom’s would not. “After all, do I really want to be a soldier?”- his sick young and dark mind would think.
All standing in a straight thin line, the soldiers continued walking nonsensly on the Nuba mountain. Between them: Tom.
For an instant, a deep familiar unmistakeable boom and echo of aircraft bombs came, with the shock and vibrating earth that accompanied them. Large pieces of hot metal wildly flew and the large fires erupt savagely blew over the dry field, just like hell inflicted surgically on innoscents.
Tom arrived to put the Nuba women and her five children that were walking to the school standing 100 meters away in time. They fortunately got saved, but he didn’t.

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