Incineration of Innocence - an Israeli short story

 

                                    INCINERATION OF INNOCENCE

 

I stood draped in a blanket as the rain howled around me, shaking the very foundations of my house. Angry purple clouds hovered in the sky as the wind whistled through my emaciated body. Tempestuous waves rocked the fishing boats in the Red Sea to my left, but for all their valour, not a single fish from the men’s’ catch would go into their famished mouths. Suddenly, a crash sounded in the living room and I jerked up. My skin crawled with an ominous sense of foreboding.

            My father rushed out of the house and ran into the balcony, grabbing me roughly by the shoulder. He was shaking, and blood covered the rags he donned on his frail body. His scarlet eyes gleamed, and the shadow of a tear crossed his rugged face. He pressed a few coins into my palms, our savings over the last few months. ‘Hakim,’ he croaked, his voice barely louder than a whisper. ‘Run away. Take your mother along with you. You’re man of the house now, you hear me? You have to keep everyone safe.’ He tried to smile and touched my face. ‘My little boy. My sweet, little boy. Now a man. You have to be brave, you hear me? Be brave. For your Baba.’

            Without any sense of warning, he ran to the front and picked up a sharpened blade from the tabletop. He prayed to God for forgiveness, reciting a prayer in the sweet tongue of the villagers. Instantly, I understood. The soldiers had come. The armed Islamists accompanied them, and I moved to the kitchen doorway, hiding behind the curtain.

            I could do nothing but watch helplessly as they took him. Although they were twenty in number and he was one, he thrashed and struggled, slashing his dagger swiftly and skilfully. They were no match for him. But in his starved, weakened state, he had no choice but to surrender before he collapsed. The sound of a gunshot rang through the air, and I saw them take him away to a truck filled with other bodies of innocent civilians, guiltless citizens, honest people who had done no harm.

There was no time to wallow in my self-pity, no time to mourn the loss of my beloved Baba. They would be here soon, the evil, crooked people who were responsible for the poverty, the starvation, the violence. But I had to be brave for Baba. He had one last wish, and I would fulfil that even if it meant risking my own life. I was the man of the house now. I rushed to Mama’s room, where she lay in the bed. A cup rested on her bedside, and when she saw me, she got up, wheezing, and coughed into her cup. Blood trailed from her mouth like a river, and bruises lined her soft, peat-coloured skin. I touched her face with my hand, like Baba had touched mine. ‘We have to leave,’ I told her. She seemed to understand, and she got up, took her cup in her hand, and followed me. A photograph of Baba lay on the table, and she picked it up, held it tightly, and wept.

Pain wracked my body, and in that moment, I hated the soldiers so viscerally it hurt. What right did they have, these strangers in our country, in our home, to knock off those we loved like they were pieces in a game board? What right did they have to destroy what had been painstakingly built for years in a few minutes? Someday, they would face the death they deserved. Someday, they would be mutilated and sullied beyond repair. It was at that moment, standing beside my mother and watching tears roll down her fragile skin, that I swore to avenge my father. The tender shards of my soul lay shattered in the wake of the ruthless monster that had awoken within me. The monster that was now crying for revenge.

            So we set off. We knew not where, we knew not how, but any place other than here was safe. I would not let Mama go, and I would not let myself watch the house that my father had built so lovingly, with his own sweat and blood, burn to ashes. Only God could help us now.












Bibliography –___________________________________________________________________________________

Sahel: End Abuses in Counterterrorism Operations

Sahel: End Abuses in Counterterrorism Operations (2021). Available at: https://www.hrw.org/news/2021/02/13/sahel-end-abuses-counterterrorism-operations (Accessed: 9 October 2021).

 

Sahel Crisis: Humanitarian Needs and Requirements Overview (April 2021) - Burkina Faso

Sahel Crisis: Humanitarian Needs and Requirements Overview (April 2021) - Burkina Faso (2021). Available at: https://reliefweb.int/report/burkina-faso/sahel-crisis-humanitarian-needs-and-requirements-overview-april-2021 (Accessed: 8 October 2021).

 

Deadly start of 2021 for children in Sahel, Save the Children calls for their protection | Save the Children International

Deadly start of 2021 for children in Sahel, Save the Children calls for their protection | Save the Children International (2021). Available at: https://www.savethechildren.net/news/deadly-start-2021-children-sahel-save-children-calls-their-protection (Accessed: 8 October 2021).

 

Foreign Intervention in the Sahel

Foreign Intervention in the Sahel (2020). Available at: https://storymaps.arcgis.com/stories/700cd8e76d844ea7a088032f5f4126e4 (Accessed: 8 October 2021).

 

Anon

(2021) Reliefweb.int. Available at: https://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/2021%20Sahel%20Crisis%20HNRO%20EN.pdf (Accessed: 8 October 2021).

 

 





 

Comments

Anonymous said…
Oh-my-god!!!! This is brilliantly written! So full of emotion and encapsulated so well!!! Amazing job Sneha, you are truly a writer in the making 👏👏👏
Anonymous said…
Oh my gosh, this is so good. I couldn't stop reading. I almost cried when the dad died. Keep up the awesome work! :)))
Unknown said…
Wonderfully written packed with emotions of a tender heart. Sneha dear. You are a great writer in the making. Pursue this and looking forward to many more such writings. Great and hats off.

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