UNPRECEDENTED TIMES (1st position)

 UNPRECEDENTED TIMES

 Fatema Haidermota 

Daraja 5AF

    My friend and her father steered through the busy, run-down streets of her small town in Indore on her new purple bicycle. It didn’t fit in with the setting around her. It was all bright and sparkly compared to the grey and dull broken concrete that surrounded her. It did, however, match her spirit, cheerful and innocent compared to the problems that surrounded her

            A little bit ahead, guiding the way to the market was her father. He steered through the flocks of cow carts and people, meticulously following his every swerve. Wrinkling her face in concentration, My friend tried to remember what they needed to buy from the store. She knew they needed green beans, onions, tomatoes, and… what was the last thing? Lentils, she remembered as her father pulled up to the cart.

            Securing the two bikes somewhere where it wouldn’t get stolen, my friend and her father trotted up to the vegetable stand and bought what they needed. My friend watched as the cart owner shooed away scavenging flies from his strikingly vibrant stock of mangoes. She got lost in thought thinking about how puny they were compared to the cart keepers towering fan. They were so insignificant and yet they repetitively kept coming back, the sweet smell intoxicating them, blinding them from the dangers that trapped them. 

            "Amatullah, come, we have to make it home before dark.” Her father called to her, pulling Amatullah from her thoughts that were far too advanced for a 9-year-old. She walked back to her father and got on the sparkly bicycle again. 

            They were about to make the turn into the alleyway that short-cutted back home. As they rode Amatullah thought about how hungry she was. Her stomach's rumbling turned into a roar as it echoed through the emptiness. Little did she know she wouldn't have the same type of appetite for many months to come.

 

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            As I took out my wallet to pay for the vegetables I noticed the tag labeled 'Amatullah´s Birthday Money' sticking out. I quickly shoved it back in the wallet hoping she didn't notice, her birthday was yesterday and I got her a bicycle but what's wrong with saving up to give her a little more. I took out the cash and paid the cart keeper. 

            As I put my helmet on I called for Amatullah to come so we could get home faster, the streets got dangerous after dark. There´d always been many incidents around our town, but that was all about to change. I recently got a job offer in uptown Mumbai where it was much safer and better to settle down in. I had to be prepared for the baby's arrival. I want it to be born in a better place. I still regret not being able to do the same with Amatullah. I know this time will be different.

            Amatullah and I started down the road home. It all seemed a little more eerie than usual. Quiet too. The roads are never this quiet. Either way, I didn’t think much of it and decided I should make the most of the peace. 

            Turning the corner on the alleyway back home I saw a shadow by the dumpster a little ahead on the right.  Before I could process what was happening, I was stopped dead in my tracks with a gun pointed at my head. 

            The voice was shaky and choked on fear mixed with indecisiveness. "Take out your wallet, quickly."

I heard Amatullah catch up behind me. I wish I could turn to face her and tell her to run, but he´d aim at her instead. He was unsure, scared, sloppy, he probably had no idea what he was doing.  

I sighed deeply, "Hey, let's not do this please, not in front her, please. Just listen to-"

"Take it out NOW, I´m not afraid to shoot!"  He waved the gun carelessly, his voice broke with panic. 

I hesitantly reached for my wallet, I didn't want to give him what I left for Amatullah. He was too far gone, I would die anyway, might as well make it worth something.

Impulsively I threw the wallet out on the road, it was too exposed, he wouldn't go there. I caught a glimpse of her before I felt the bullet pierce the back of my head. Her face was troubled, confused, but she could not process it. Any of it, she was too young.  And I wasn’t ready. There was supposed to be so much time, I was supposed to teach her so much, so many things went wrong.

A tear trickled down my cheek as I fell to the floor. The last thing I heard was the sound of the attacker´s footsteps fading away into the shadows. 

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            She was still. He was dead. Her mind took her to many places, not being able to concentrate on, one forcing her thoughts to race. She had to find a focal point, something to think about, anything. She went back to her last thought, the flies.

            Like an intoxicated fly, he went to the worst part of himself, and now it´ll cost him his sanity. 

            With a sudden surge of grief, she went to her father’s wallet and opened it up to see her photo in the cardholder. A cry escaped her mouth and tears pooled around in her hands. Her life would never be the same.