The Great War

By Sara Fathima

Long abandoned homes, crumbling under the wrath of the elements. Deserted streets and rusting cars. It's all there, right now, right here. Unmoving, still, just as they'd left it. A shadow of what it was, of what I was.

I'm everywhere in this empty city, I reside in the hollow pillars and in the rotting carcasses of long dead plants, I can feel it all, the hot sun on the rusty cars and the rain drops that disrupt the serene water of the lake. I can sense the winds that carry the dandelions. I can sense it because it's me, I'm the vast void city, mourning its own death, grieving what used to be and what could've been.

I don't remember how long it has been anymore, I lost count along the way but I couldn't forget what happened, no matter how hard I tried. The broken glass glistening under the sunlight, the silence, are all reminders of what happened to me, of how my heart was torn away and how my bones were crushed, of how I was left to bleed and die until nothing but my ghost remained. A ghost with no one to haunt.

It was a day like any other. They walked my streets and swam in my lake, their laughter echoed off my walls. We were happy….and then…it hit. One second everything was fine and the next, there was a shift in the delicate layer of peace, a frenzied city. The bomb hit the school building, it was crumbling, its pillars giving away slowly, screams, horrific screams replaced the laughter. People thrashed against one another, ran, ran to save the innocent little souls.

Mothers wept. Fathers struggled to enter the burning building, tried and failed to protect their little children.

And inside the building, the children burst, they burst everywhere, some burned, their screams unheard in the wails of the concrete that fell around and over them, the pillars took care of the ones the fire couldn't reach, crushing them underneath all the debris. Maybe the building hated the humans that disturbed its stillness and so it crushed them with its bones and painted itself and everything around it with their blood.

It was the first day of school for her little boy, she was proud of him, he was only 3 but smarter than kids twice his age. It wasn't easy, letting him go but she relented, wished him the best and kissed him goodbye. Who knew that she'd never see her little boy again? Who knew that he'd burn while screaming her name over and over? Who knew that she'd run right into the fire and laugh in the face of the flames that took her boy while her skin withered and her flesh melted?

I stopped seeing after that. Tuned it all out. I don't know how many more hit me, all the pain merged into one. The hurt, a constant push against my walls. And when I finally looked. It was all over. I was completely destroyed, my beautiful buildings now nothing but a crumbling, burning mess. Smoke, dark and hot tainted the air and blood, red and warm seeped into my grass and my mud and stained my streets in crimson streaks.

They were dead. I could feel the slowing heartbeat of those who would soon be. The unsteady beats of their heart a rhythm that shook my ground harder than any bomb. I was alone. They were all dead, their bodies lined my streets and just like that it was all over, forever.

I don't remember their faces anymore but I can't forget them and the light that they gave. They were my heart, a heart that was stolen.

I wish they'd haunt me; I wish their grieved souls roamed my streets until the end of time. I wish they were still here, in any shape or form.

The bomb hit my buildings, but I cried for their unbeating hearts. The bullets shattered my windows, but I wept for their crushed dreams that glistened brighter than all my broken glass. The flames engulfed me whole but I mourned every drop that painted my land red.

Nothing but my shadow remained but I still dream of the shadows of the skeletons that cover my streets.

So, is it so bad to wish it all ended? Is it so bad to wish that not even a shadow of me remained? Is it so bad to pray for the world to break and burn like they had? Is it so bad to plead for the ocean waves to embrace my bloodied and crumbling body and drown me until my sorrow and pain dissolved in its clear water. Until nothing of me was left and I was once again theirs, forever?

By Sara Fathima