webnovel

The Broken Angels

It starts with a daydreamer and a boy in a protest, but only ends with one. "For one human, they were the last thirty minutes of his life, and for me, they were thirty minutes that I will never forget. "

beet_jr · Realistic
Not enough ratings
6 Chs

The Boy's Letter

My dearest Baba,

I thought about writing to you to inform you that I'll be joining you in heaven soon. I hope you have some ideas for a movie night because I'm bringing some brothers and sisters with me. They are not just friends anymore dad; they are my family now. I'm alive when we unite but don't worry, no one will be up to replacing your hugs.

To whom am I lying?

You know every inch of me, and yet I dare to lie.

Baba, I'm tired…

I miss your hands around my face, indulging me in your wisdom. My body got rusty and warned out ahead of its time. Life is getting darker, and I'm still afraid of the dark. I'm glad that you're not here to see this; you won't be able to sleep the nights. You are safe and sound up there, down here, I'm drowning…

Oh, ya Allah! I don't want to go! I want to free people. I still haven't helped the children. I need more time…please.

Can't you feel my pain? I am in heaven Baba! This is my heaven! Here is my home…keep me here…please, I don't want to leave. Many people have sacrificed everything for this…

I still have dreams for tomorrow. Haven't I told you baba?

Tomorrow, I want to wear nothing but white. Yes… I'll wear a white outfit, clean my shoes, and do my best to look handsome. I'll be ready by sunrise, stand on the horizon in an open field, and open my arms to the world with passion, because by sunset, I dream that my clothes would be dirty from the bricks I carried to build a home. I'm not going back with blood-soaked clothes like every day.

I won't weep again! I will not weep.

My dear father, my body will be left to rot soon, yet my thoughts will not rest. My thoughts will spread faster than wildfire, faster than the bullets fired at my brothers' and sisters' hearts, and in a more chaotic fashion than the murderers' fall into hell.

My wings were once white, but now I can't tell if that's dirt that's one of them or dried up blood. God, fix our torn wings! We were angels about to take flight. We are the dead.

We are…the broken angels.

- Shaheed

____________________________________

Shaheed: Martyr in Arabic