A war story of Marc Marlon Villaflor
My heart beats fast, fear running in my veins, my parents hold my little brother, as they look around, wondering what will happen next, they are completely clueless. The driver stopped the truck right in front of the check point. Five fully armed soldiers surrounded the truck, one of the soldiers open the covering tent. “Where is your ID?” The officer asks me while looking at the other passengers.
The soldier checks all IDs one by one and returns it all. “Ok, you! come down!” The soldier commands my father. He stands up and get out from the truck.
“You are bastard, you are not a citizen of this country, are you a spy?” He asks my father while pointing his gun straight right to my father's head. My mother cried, “Mohammed!” I hug my mother and Ahmed my little brother.
My father gets pale as he looks numb and unable to move, while the soldier struck his back with his rifle, “No! Please don’t hurt my father!” I cried. The officer looks at me, grabs my hair with his sturdy hands. “You are a daughter of this bastard you don’t have a place in this country!” I felt so much pain in my head while he grips my hair. I cried, “Please, I beg you, please don’t hurt us!” He pushes me on the ground and I stumble right in front of my father.
My father holds me and covers my head, He cries and tries to explain that he is doing business in this country, but the soldier slaps my father and spit his face.“Damn Bastard!” The officer kicks and spit us once again.
My mother and my brother cry, they can’t do anything. I can’t control my tears, a very painful moment for my family; I pray to God, “Please, I need you now.” I hug my father.
“All of you get down! Move!” command by the soldier, my mother and my brother were afraid and immediately come near to us; she hugs my father with Ahmed. “Lamia we need to be strong,” father whispers to my mother. She nods while holding her tears. I am thinking this our end, and I wipe the tears of my little brother. My heart beats fast again and I hold him tight.
Suddenly, a rapid gunfire strike the soldiers follow by a massive explosion, the rocket blows the outpost; my father was quick enough to covers and hides us at the back of the old car beside the truck. The other passengers also hide with us. The four soldiers fall after the chaos. The remaining soldiers run, the bad officer fearfully heads the retreating remnants. The rebel’s open fire and the machine gun clear the road, strewn with lifeless bodies bathing in their own blood; it is a dawn of fire.