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#Post#: 467--------------------------------------------------
FREEDOM, written by dragonborn99
By: dragonborn99 Date: October 23, 2012, 1:04 am
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here is an award wining (oh yes!) story i wrote a while back
now:
Freedom
Jamie Findley
‘Serenity is not freedom from the storm but peace amid the
storm’ by anonymous
Fahim ran through the dusty streets, not wanting to look back,
not at the Taliban, guns in hands, black turbans on head. Fahim
ran around a brick building, lifting dust into the air. She came
to another corner, almost tripping over a pile of rubble. The
wind whistled around her. Her hair was being blown back as she
ran. She finally reached a large, imposing stone church with two
doors forming an archway and next to that was a hole that had
been blasted through the wall. The girl pushed the heavy doors
open, revealing rows and rows of wooden seats and two holes on
each wall where beautiful patterned stained glass windows used
to be intact. At the front of the church was a stone alter.
Fahim ran down the aisle trembling as the church doors burst
open and five Taliban war lords stormed inside gripping
A-K-47’s.
Fahim hid behind the stone alter shivering with fear. The
Taliban warriors marched angrily down the aisles of seats. The
five fearless soldiers stood near where the Fahim cowered frozen
with fear. The Taliban signaled to where the she was hiding and
confronted her, all looking down at her in disgust, as if she
had killed their families. Fahim slowly looked up her face
drenched in tears.
‘Get up now girl!’ shouted one of the Taliban nudging her with
his gun. She did not move, tears flowing down her face.
‘Get up now, or else you die!’ shouted another Taliban this
time shoving her with his gun. The girl grunted and slowly got
up. Suddenly the church doors burst open once again, this time
soldiers swarmed into the church firing at the Taliban. The
Taliban and soldiers exchanged shots rapidly ducking, evading
and rolling. The girl covered her face with her hands trying not
to look at the battle raging around her. After a while her
surroundings went quiet. She looked up to see a soldier looming
over her. The soldier had Australia’s flag patched onto his
uniform.
‘Are you hurt?’ the soldier said in a soothing voice ‘I can help
you out of here’ Fahim gazed into the man’s eyes than pushed
past him running back out of the church entrance into the warm,
lonely air.
Fahim ran through the village once again passing dozens of
abandoned houses, empty stalls and deserted vehicles. She
stopped at a small empty house with its door ripped off its
hinges and the windows smashed down into millions of pieces. She
stepped into the house slowly to be emerged into a blank room
filled with nothing but the putrid smell of dead rats. The girl
leant on the wall and remembered back to when she was with
family on Christmas night…
‘Can you pass the chicken over please’ asked a beautiful lady
dressed in a long blue dress.
‘Yes mum’ replied a young girl as she passed over a platter
filled with cut up chicken, big and small.
‘Thanks Fahim’ said the lady in the blue dress ‘did you want any
chicken Nadia’ the lady said as she stuffed a white plate with
chicken. The table was as long as a bus and had twelve seats on
each side seated by laughing, chatting people all exchanging
stories. Suddenly the sound of gunshots filled the air as a
large truck rode up to the happy family. Inside the truck sat
the Taliban.’
The vision slowly faded away from Fahim’s mind as she slumped
onto the floor, a new wave of fresh tears flowing from her eyes
drenching her light green dress. They’re going to get me, Fahim
thought to herself, shivering at the thought of it. Fahim slid
herself up and left the empty building being cautious in case
she was being followed. The sound of dead trees could be heard
faintly swishing and swaying with the wind. Fahim passed more
endless rows of ruins and destruction until she found what she
was looking for, the cemetery.
Fahim passed dozens of grey tombstones, shivering every time she
saw one of her friends names engraved onto the front of the
lifeless piece of stone. The smell of dying flowers caught her
nose. Roses, Fahim thought to herself, the smell brightening her
up. Fahim walked through the endless rows of tombstones until
she saw the most import two names in her life; ‘here lies the
couple of Kareema and Farah Safa R.I.P.’ Mum, Dad, Fahim
thought to herself with anger and sorrow. Fahim bowed her head
in respect then left her parent graves, coming back the way she
came.
Fahim walked sluggishly back to a small sand stone building, and
stepped inside, no need to open a door. Fahim emerged into small
room, lounges and tables flipped to their sides and windows
obliterated into dozens of sparkling pieces. The floor, only a
patterned carpet. Fahim strolled across the room, her dress
flowing around her as if it was a green waterfall. She came over
to a small wooden dresser and slid open the top left draw
revealing a blue covered scrap book. Fahim pulled the book out
and sat on the carpet opening the book to reveal pictures
slipped neatly into place. A picture of a long table with a
variety of people sitting at it. A picture of a small boy
jumping on a small trampoline. A picture of a lady hanging out
the washing. A picture of Fahim hugging a tall girl around her
teenage years. Fahim chuckled to herself at the sight of the
photos; Fahim turned the page as she heard the sound of around
five pairs of feet marching. No, no, no, Fahim thought to
herself her eyes welling up. Fahim quickly placed the book back
into its hiding place and left the building, running for her
life.
Fahim sprinted, not even thinking of stopping to rest. Suddenly
the sound of a chopper over went, going directly above her. The
chopper landed one-hundred meters in front of Fahim, the
helicopter doors being flung open as same Australian soldier
that was in the church, emerged stepping out.
‘Run over to us, you have nothing to be afraid of!’ the soldier
commanded. Fahim’s pace slowed slightly.
The Afghan soldier adjusted the sniper’s lenses fixing them onto
the running girl…
Fahim still ran the rocky dirt piercing into her feet.
‘Just keep running you’ll be OK!’ Fahim’s pace slowed more here
legs stinging with excruciating pain which made her feel if she
would collapse and never come back up. 25meters.
The Afghan soldier aimed the sight down to the slowing girl, the
cross-hairs locked onto her head…
Fahim hesitated and looked back to see a small man hunched down
on a roof holding a sniper, aimed straight at her. The
Australian soldier shouted more commands getting louder and
louder. 50meters.
The Afghan placed his grubby finger onto the trigger waiting for
the right moment…
No, no, no, Fahim thought to herself, Fahim let out rivers of
tears from her eyes. Fahim slowed now to a slow run. 75meters
The Afghan pulled the trigger, a bullet emerging from the front…
Fahim thought about her family and her friends
The bullet spun through the air…
The bullet suddenly pierced into Fahim, dropping her to the
ground, gunshots surrounding her, soldiers running past her as
Fahim’s cracked lips parted revealing a small word, ‘ freedom.’
thanks for reading and feel free to leave a comment!
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