‘The Move’ by Iona

Sadness washes over me, as the sense of loss slowly crushed my insides. Overwhelmed and perplexed, I begin to stand, my legs practically collapsing beneath me; I feel claustrophobic in this tent where many others are injured and sobbing. There are moms hugging their babies in their arms as the infant screams because something is wrong in the environment, and individuals holding each other in fear, trying to be strong but finding it difficult in this situation. Brothers and sisters sat on the muck green ground, hoping for their mother or father to appear through the red tent doors, both knowing they may never see their parents again.

I look around, missing their beautiful smiles before the raid, everything was normal before the sun shone in Somalia, I was returning from the market after buying fresh fruit for my brother who was feeling poorly. Our parents died a while ago, so I’ve been caring for him. We lived in a tiny house, and while I hated being there, I wish I was back there now more than ever. As I was walking back, I heard shouting and hurried to get back home to my brother as I saw men clothed in deep black garments with shields, but it was the sight of the guns that made my spine quiver.

I prayed with my mouth closed. As the cupboard was ripped open, a bullet struck my brother, killing him instantly.