Here is astory I wrote myself, hope you like it.

 Apple_Jazz

Hummingbird

I looked over the dry, stony landscape, hoping to find some place where Nadyne could hide while I’m off, trying to find some water.

 That thought of water just reminds me of how thirsty and hungry I am, the last time Nadyne and I had something to eat was nearly two days ago, before we ran away after another bombing at our little village, now that Iraq is at war with Iran we get a lot of them.

 My thoughts get interrupted by Nadyne, whispering my name “Nadirah, I’m thirsty, can’t we just go home?”

”You know we can’t go back” I sigh; I had hoped Nadyne would understand, but she didn’t. I mean, why would she, she’s only 4, “go and hide in that little hole over there, I’ll be back soon, promise.” She didn’t answer; she just turned around and walked off.

As I slowly make my way to find some water, I think to myself, ´How could this happen Nadirah, you’re only 14 and already stuck in the desert with a 4 year old; no parents, no food and no water.`

I was 11, when our parents left to get some water; I only heard the bomb-alarm and ran with the baby in my arms, just how my mother taught me to. When it was safe again I took Nadyne back to our little hut and waited for our parents; they never returned.

Ever since that day I’ve been looking after Nadyne all by myself; sometimes it’s hard, but I’m used to it.

 Suddenly I heard someone screaming, it sounded like Nadyne. Not a second later I was already sprinting towards the place I told her to stay, but I was too late.

 Some might say I was lucky, because they didn’t see me and just walked off, leaving Nadyne behind them.

At that moment I just wanted to scream and run over to her, but I had to wait, because the soldiers might hear me and come back.

 I don’t know how long it took me to be absolutely sure that they were gone, but straight afterwards I ran to my sister and laid her head on my lap, but again, too late; with her last breathe she whispers “Hummingbird” and I smile.

It was her favorite song; I used to sing it in memory of our parents.

Then I start:

Birds fly away,

Hummingbirds over the sky.

I’ll be back it says,

I’ll be back it sings.

Birds fly away,

Hummingbirds over the sky.

Just come back I say,

Just come back I sing,

But birds fly away.

Now, 10 years later, I’m 24 and have my own little house at that place in the desert and on the spot where she died, I placed a bench.

 I guess, at the time it just felt like the right thing to do, so I would remember; but now, writing the whole story down, I realize, it’s not to memorize her death; it’s to celebrate her life.