Beneath The Rubble

I woke up. My head was hurting so badly and I didn’t know where I was. Dad was lying beside me– hidden beneath an endless pile of rubble. His usually radiant complexion was an off grey- caked in dust and debris. I asked him to help. I told him that I was hurt through floods of tears but he didn’t move. I shook him; begging him to hear me .To comfort me.

I needed him to hear me!

But nothing happened.

All my attempts were in vain, his expression stayed dim. Pain etched across his face. Maybe he was still sleeping? –‘Get real Nina’, I thought. How could I be so naive to think that he was still sleeping; amidst so much destruction and desolation? I could hear screams of a macabre quality, a terrible symphony of pain, each note dripping with sadness. A bitter song filled with rage that got softer every now and then.

It was the official announcement that someone, somewhere beneath the rumble was no longer apart of the cacophony of screams. That they had died.

As the hours passed the screams got fainter and fainter until the only scream I could hear was mine. I had never felt so alone in my thirteen years of life. Death is a hard thing to handle for those on the outside. The loss of a family member or friend is unbearable. Constantly being plagued by the reminder that you will never see them again, never delight in their laughter or do anything to make them smile is too much to handle. Some people take it better than others. - Lord knows I wasn’t taking it well. I would give anything just to see my father smile at me or even scowl. Anything to have some remnants of life restored back in him. He taught me so much; he had been the one to tell me that "Nothing good ever came from giving up" whenever I was on the verge of a...

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...oden stake thrust through your throat. It slowly devours me taking over my body, robbing my thoughts until I could think of nothing else. I couldn’t ignore it. Tears dripped freely from my eyes as I carefully lifted my father’s icy arm prying the bloomer free from his steely grip. I ripped the packet in haste, forcing large chunks of bread into my mouth. It was delectable, so soft and warm against my tongue; the flavour bursting through scintillating my taste buds. It was as soft rich Egyptian velvet. For that brief moment I was unaware of all the destruction around me. My lips parted, creasing upwards exposing my perfectly white teeth.

My happiness was short-lived. The sweet aroma of the bread didn’t belong here and soon it was replaced. In the coming days the malodorous stench of decaying flesh took over .enveloping the air and stealing the wind from my lungs.