The Orphaned Land

The Orphaned Land is a story about an unnamed Palestinian male, aged 12, who tries to escape the ravaged Gaza Strip in the midsts if the Gaza–Israel conflict.
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I started my day awakening to my eardrums pulsing at the sound of explosions and gunfire. As I got on my feet they rang intensely, masking out the screams and cries of the village people. As the ringing faded I took a step outside my tent of cardboard and worn cloth. Before me was a cloud of ash blacking out the sun, which would normally be beaming brightly from high in the sky at this time of day.
I proceeded down a hill to what remains of this piece of civilization: much being a sea of lifeless bodies. Those with life still in their veins were deprived of basic human necessities. There was a scarcity of food, water was contaminated, and diseases were spreading rapidly. The region’s lone power plant was down, leaving several without electricity. These atrocious conditions may add up to cause many to suffer from terrible psychological disorders.
Looking out of the village’s rusty metal fence I saw a truck approaching. As it headed my way it appeared to be one of the UN’s, supplying this land’s inhabitants with precious humanitarian aid. Upon it passing through the town gate the crisis victims surrounded the vehicle on all sides. They pulled the driver out of his seat, opened the back of the truck, and hoarded everything inside. All of the foodstuffs and medicines were soon emptied out before I ever had a chance to see what was in there.
I realized that I had nothing to gain from staying here, and that exploring what was beyond was the only chance I had of surviving. A neighbor once told me that the town of Rafah wasn’t far. From there I could possibly cross the adjacent Egyptian border.
I set off and started running across the desolate landscape. I finally felt free from the horrid, agonizing sounds of violence, pain, grief, and sickness. However, it wasn’t long until I heard a tank nearing me. Whether it was one of Israel’s of Hamas’, it looked as though it was going to run me over.
I had nowhere to escape it, but suddenly a sandstorm blew in, one that blocked my sight and forced my eyes shut. All I could sense was the growing noise of the tank. I was convinced that I was doomed to a grim fate, but then the noise passed on.
With the sandstorm having blown over, Rafah was in plain view, but to my dismay the town was in ruins. As before, lifelessness and suffering were all that seemed to be left. A single tower looked to be the only structure intact.
After taking a few more steps in, a missile fired from somewhere around a corner and hit the tower. It came crashing down and debris flowed up. Bombs and guns once again plagued my ears, just as blindness has once again to my eyes. I hoped for the best as I sprinted straight ahead without guidance.
With my heart pounding and perspiration ensuing I found myself miraculously close to the end of the fray, before I felt something pierce through my right leg. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t stay on my feet. That was all I could remember until I found myself in the arms of a UN volunteer inside a medical tent.
He placed me on a table and started treating my leg. The man, donning a nametag labeled “Ezra”, told me that no bones were broken and that I would soon recover. I asked where we were, and he answered “in Rafah, next to the heavily guarded Egyptian boundary”. Glancing at the tent’s entrance the seemingly endless line of patients in far greater need than me made me wonder as to how I ended up past them all. Ezra said that he found me lay in the middle of the road and figured that I would have lost too much blood if it weren’t for some quick patching up. I asked him if I could cross the border, but the request was turned down for Ezra refused to take me to what he perceived as a hostile environment. What he failed to realize was that nowhere was safe.
I’m not sure if he intended to keep me here or not, but someone else informed Ezra that the overcrowding of this temporary hospital would soon force me, along with others, to depart from it. In a few minutes I found myself outside again. Egypt was seemingly impossible to get into, but before me was a large refugee camp. This looked as though it was my final destination, but the future is uncertain, and it is a fate I must accept.