His stomach still turned even after they set foot on land. Nausea rose in waves and he held his hurting belly in his hands. His headache spread right into his eyes and reeled every time he tried to gaze past the dense thickness of bodies. Interminable days and nights squeezed below deck had stiffened him, and now his little legs could barely manage movement. “It’s good. We’re safe, we’re safe…” he muttered over and over again. No one would ever try and steal his father away again.
His mother’s hand gripped his like a vice and noise overwhelmed him, but he tried to smile and ignore the anguished and tired cry that left his mother’s tight lips. He gazed through the crowd with sunblind, salt-stained eyes. “Where are they taking Papa?” But no one heard his desperate voice above the cacophony of fear and his mother’s hand slipped through his.
I haven’t writen Flash in a while, too busy editing, but this picture from Visual Dare spoke to me, especially with all the news features about European Refugees and Asylum Seekers. Just imagine, for a moment, being a small child escaping a country torn apart by war, dictatorial oppression, and/or religious extremism…then being rejected in the very place you hoped to find sanctuary…
If you’re interested this is a great article: 10 truths about Europe’s migrant crisis.
Please, also, take a look at the other stories, each is very different, but very powerful.
The Last Krystallos 