Death of a City: What Civil War Looks Like In The 21st Century
By: Macey Malone
Tags: Syrian Civil War, Aleppo, Short Story, War

Image from Pixabay

“I look at the sky. There are no stars. There is no moon. I can barely see the darkness of the night as the sky glitters with light and smoke. My breath is heavy, stomach empty for days and body supplied with lactic acid due to the countless miles of running I have done. My eyes are without sleep and with living nightmares of death that is keeping me alive. Every second passing could be my last — every breath I start does not promise me the end of it. My heart pounding to the simplest movements around me, hoping to see someone alive.

I smell dust, gun powder and inhale the cries of the souls who already left the deaf and blind world. I hear the distant loud gunfight and assume the presence of humans taking their last breath. I hear men and women crying, screaming in unbearable pain of losing their family members. I can feel the almost tangible smoke that has created a haze on the streets and I see nothing but death.

Death — what is death? A ubiquitous occurrence engulfing anyone and everyone on its way. A way of solace to escape the uncertain fate in a place, which won’t take time to turn into rubble. I see light and fear the presence of light. I run into darkness and try to hide from death. My perceived knowledge on the realistic world has suffered a transformation that is so detestable that life does not serve any purposeful meaning to me. I will live one more day to die an even more painful death. This is my reality. A day that awaits me. The mere feeling unleashes the maximum endurance level and prepares me for another day that is similar to a never ending lifetime.

I know for a fact that death will come soon and take me to the land of the unknown. But I wonder — am I not already in an unknown land? I do not recognize my city, I do not recognize my surrounding. The Aleppo I knew is long gone. A city put to death sleep. A city with so many scars that there is no capacity for another one. The fate of every living person in this part of the world is analogous to the fate of a prey and a predator. All that is familiar to me is death. Death of countless people who once were just like me and had hopes of living another day. My vision seems to have been accustomed to seeing blood and ruins of buildings. I want to run to a place where civilization has not felt the impulse to venture. I can’t find any refuge and I keep running— I don’t even know where.

My hands look for safeguard, shoulder looks for support, legs want to endure the overpowering pain and my body wants to sustain one more day, just one more day. What has the world done to me? I don’t blame the government alone — I blame humanity for it is the root of all viciousness. I don’t blame the government alone — I feel pity for people who did nothing to help us and are blessed with life in other parts of the world. I don’t blame the government alone — for what they are doing is no different than the world that is acting indifferent to the mass killings. I don’t blame anyone as I see no difference between the destruction of numerous cultures in the past and our demolition in the present.

I wonder and listen to the sound of the newest attack on my beloved city. I hear death whispering into my ears now. I think it’s time I should die. It’s time I shut my eyes to the world and I let go of my soul.

Yes, finally I found my safe haven, in the arms of death.”