The Bombing Of Kara Baazar

Excellence Award in the 'Horizon of Dreams 2018' competition

The village of Kara Baazar was a peaceful one, as it stood amidst war-ravaged lands with the pains of conflict continuing throughout much of the country, it remained relatively untouched. People continued on with their daily lives, they ate, said their prayers and continued on with their business as if the world around them merely didn't exist.

That was until one morning I will never forget. I sat with an elderly man named Azad outside his shopfront, he blew puffs of smoke in my face with his cigarette. 'You know, that's bad for you.' I said as he continued to smoke. 'Of course, I know that Kejal. But I am a weary old man who will pass soon so why does it matter?' Before I could reply, a buzzing sound surrounded the sky. It gave me a fear I could not recognize.

Azad rose with such strength, he peered out into the sky as did the other people in the marketplace. The buzzing got louder and louder, Azad turned around with a look of pure terror on his face. 'Go get your siblings.' He said aggressively. 'Now!' I realized something was terribly wrong but I didn't know what. I ran past the other people, rather than running they stood there in shock.

Then suddenly, a black plane swooped down like a hawk looking for prey. It was a Drone. The Drone circled, then descended on the village, bombing the west district. Screams could be heard from miles away. I had never felt such an adrenalin rush, my heart and mind raced a million miles an hour. I ran as fast as my legs could take me.

Then the Drone disappeared back into the clouds. As I turned the corner, the buzzing sound was coming back? and it was heading in this direction. I was gasping for air as I saw it coming. The drone dived down bombing a building close to me, I fell to the cold hard ground, I couldn't get up, my legs wouldn't move, my hearing tainted with ringing.

I lay there for what felt like days, I heard the faintest buzzing noise around me. After a while, the buzzing stopped. Now all I could hear was the ringing, and the screams and cries of men holding their dead sons. I knew that the drone had gone, but the suffering it had given remained. I lay there whispering prayers to myself as I wept quietly, on the cold hard ground.

The Drone that killed the people of Kara Baazar that day, killed them like a butcher slaughtering a pen full of lambs. And you know as they say. 'The butcher cares not for the lamb's cries.'


25 was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
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