the doll and the diary

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic

what happens in a war.... is it only a battle of death...
for someone it is, but what for the innocent who bears the war, in and out

-The hope of joy for a child to go..

The child's Doll, and a hopeful Diary.....

 

 

She was looking through the broken window. And she was smiling. The wrecking of buildings, those rattling sounds, all had serious effect on me. I just fed up with life. Even I fear to pray for god too, as those people hunting us, says they are children of god, and if god betrays what else we do? And still she was smiling, looking through the broken window.

I am now in a hospital and my bed was near to the window. Not that I am hospitalized, but you cannot find any good hospital now. Even where I sleep wasn’t a hospital.

In hospital, living sleeps above and dead sleeps beneath. But here, it is just reverse. All the people, who were brought here, as they thought it the God’s own Home, lay shattered in that bomb blast, and I am with my 7 nurses and my doll, beneath the so called HOME.

I am in between the four walls, between the 7 nurses, who look for a way for survival. My doll, she is there now sitting near to that broken window, looking outside and still she smiles.

I looked into my diary. It can be the only evidence of happiness in my or in every people around the neighbourhood. I looked through the pages, memories flashed behind.

I saw my mother, watering the plants, and my young baby brother, who plays with my father, my friends, with whom I played every day, and my Betty, my cutie cattie, who walks around the house, looking for milk, and he even spills milk out of the milk bottle. I saw my neighbours too, even I saw them now too, but they are at distant from me, in a white haze.

I ran for them, I ran for my mom’s hug, I ran for my dad’s caressing, I ran to play with my friends, and even to sit with my brother baby, to look at his mischiefs. But they move away from me as I approach, and only barrier between us is my body.

I looked at the window again, my doll is still looking through the world, in that broken glass. I have my diary, but out of my hand near to doll. All I hear after was the cries of my mother, pain of my father and still body of my still smiling brother, all still.

Nurses gather around me as a new shell exploded. My nerves cracked down again. The clock in the room stops its tick, and the war plane’s sound was near to us. I heard some footsteps approaching near to us. My heart beat rise up, and I wish I could cry, cry louder, but held up my breath.

Some people come into room. They had guns with them. And I smell blood in their hands. It’s my end I thought, even now everything is my last thought.

Hope had taken smell of blood, shattered everywhere. Wish I could end it all, Oh wish, I could….

I now have nothing, nothing in my clutches. So I ran, ran from their hands, ran from the smell of blood and ran from this dreadful world, but it all end by a blink, a white one.

I reached my parents now, I saw my mother, who hugs me, I saw my father, who caressed me, I saw my friends who are with me now, and even I saw my brother’s long lost lovely smile…… Smile it reminds me of something, my doll and my diary with a smile on its cover……

She still was near that broken window, near my diary, hoping to see the new sunshine and smiles……. Just as it does always.....life…

 


Submitted: May 26, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Abhishek V S. All rights reserved.

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Comments

Criss Sole

This felt very sentimental.
You have a beautiful way of writing.
I can only imagine the horrors of war.
Well written.

Wed, June 3rd, 2020 7:22am

Author
Reply

Thank you

Wed, June 3rd, 2020 5:49am

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