Scribbled Scenes November #5: The Prettiest Girls

With her surprisingly soft hands she wipes the tears from my cheeks, but it’s futile. Water is flowing like a river and there’s no stopping it. “Why did it have to be her? Why did they take her, my poor baby sister?”

The men came earlier that day. With their mouths covered by black fabric and their loaded guns. We just stood there useless and terrified. Our hair was filthy and tangled and all we wore was cloths. Their eyes scanned over us, as if they were shopping for a new toy. Which was at least partially true. They took the prettiest girls, of which my baby sister Yasi was one. And there was nothing I could do but watch them harass my Yasi and drag her to their car. One of the girls resisted and ended up with a bullet through her head, the sound still echoed through our heads.

We were with sixteen, now there are only thirteen of us left. I don’t know who should be lucky. Us, who are to live in a shed of six squared meters with one meal of bread and water per day, or them who get to live in a big house with one of those men.

Probably us.

5 thoughts on “Scribbled Scenes November #5: The Prettiest Girls

Let me hear your thoughts!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s