The Light
Babba and Yusra were both running away from the explosions around them. They were running and trying to save their lives. How long could they do this for? How many more days, hours, minutes, or even seconds did they have until the Taliban would come and take their lives? How many more lives did they want to take?
“Yusra, this way!” yelled Babba. He was breathing heavily. His voice was trembling in agonizing pain. Death was written all over his face, and his body was weak.
Seeing him tore Yusra’s heart into small, delicate pieces. People ran and screamed, trying to escape while the bombs kept blowing their innocent lives away. Yusra wanted to close her eyes and ignore those screams of misery. There was no hope.
She was thinking
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Their voices were looking for help, but they were hopeless. Yusra sat in the corner of the dark, cold, and empty room, close to Babba, where she felt safe. She started to cry. She wanted to go to school, play with her friends, and just live a normal life like all the other thirteen-year-old kids do in other countries. She always imagined herself and her family living happily together here in Pakistan. Her mama would wake her up in the morning and her babba would go to work, and after school, she would go outside and play with all her friends. At night, when her babba returned from work, they would all sit together and eat dinner. This had always been her biggest dream. But she was grateful that she still had a few hours with her babba left. Soon, they would get separated, and they would never see each other …show more content…
It’s safe now, we can go home,” whispered Babba. “Here, wear my jacket; its cold outside,” he continued, as he handed her his jacket.
They were both happy and scared at the same time—happy to finally go home and see Mama and Ali, but scared that maybe something had happened to them last night.
They slowly and quietly walked outside. Yusra couldn’t look at all the innocent people who were lying on the ground in scattered pieces. Everywhere she looked, she saw old and young people covered in blood. She couldn’t take anymore and decided to look away by covering her face with Babba’s jacket.
The closer they got to home, the weirder Yusra started to feel. Her feeling was indescribable. It seemed as if someone were calling her name—her mama maybe, but she was in a lot of pain. The screams in her head were getting louder and louder; it was almost unbearable.
Their house had fallen into small pieces. Mama was lying against the wall with Ali in her arms. Blood was dripping from both of their faces.
“Mama, wake up! We are home. Mama, look!” yelled Yusra. “Please wake up, Mama!” she cried.
Mama didn’t move and neither did Ali. Babba and Yusra both started to cry tremendously. Babba started screaming and cursing. He couldn’t control himself. “Babba, stop. Please stop!” cried