July Contest

Moving Away

It was silent today. We all crossed the dry riverbed; thin starving humans coated in soot of explosions.
Mama walked in front, silent and brooding. The twins, Iesha and Ahmed, were strapped to her like little time bombs, one in front and the other behind. Ibrahim held my hands with the strength of a four years old.
Then it came, the next bomb — loud and reverberating. Everyone ran like we’d done before, I lost Ibrahim. When the frenzy stopped, Ibrahim was a trampled bloody patch on the scorched earth, the same patch that had marked Papa’s exit from this world.


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