By Alan Gaines
The remaining buildings in the bombed-out village shimmer behind undulating waves of heat rising off the deserted street. Cut off from outside aid, Fariba and her son, Bijan, pedal their bikes carefully through the rubble, baskets full of overpriced supplies from the black market.
Eyeing the sky, listening for drones, she says, “Let’s get inside.”
Back at the hospital, the power is on, for now; the water is clean, for now; the generator is old; the fuel is scarce—bombs aren’t the only things that kill out here in the desert.
Inside, the AC screams, almost as loudly as the children.
Heart aching.
Very graphic, and realistic.
Nice piece of writing. You painted it beautifully into my head. Love the heartbreaking last line.
Scott
Last line, heartbreaking ?.
Beautiful words.
Very evocative writing – and that last line! Heartbreaking!
Remarkable in its efficiency. I felt thoroughly engaged by this story.
I feel a sense of rising urgency here. Well done.
A genuine talent for the atmospheric and arresting. Well done.
Chapeau…
Well done Alan
Powerfully poignant and well crafted!
With your words I was there and saw the frantic movement of their feet. I felt a mothers fear.
Heartfelt Alan ?
Sorry Alan
Don’t know why the ? Is there…..
All in a nutshell… ?