A little tribute to the brave martyrs of the Army Public School, Peshawar. Today, marks 6 years of this brutal terrorist attack. Time doesn’t necessarily heal everything; it just palliates the pain by engulfing the scars. We shall never forget you.
A silent prayer from the heavens above
By Fatima Ali
16th December 2014,
The brutal killing of innocents and teens. As I sit to write, tears scurry down my cheeks. They testify as the ruptured fragments of my demolished dreams.
It was an ordinary morning, little did we know the world would end up mourning. My mother insisted I wore her knitted sweater, she believed it would protect me from the mighty gusts of December.
Running late for school,she very quickly rushed me out of our home and embraced me in her arms, before I left. I wish I’d held on tighter; I wish I hadn’t let go, but I thought my school was my safe place, just as mother had insisted so.
My heart trembles as I continue to write, a shrivel down my spine grips onto the feelings entwined. I will never forget the echoesone by one,as we answered ‘present’ to the attendance that was taken. The word ‘present’ takes me into a trance, for how metaphoric were the leading events.
It was in the last sound of the word ‘present’ that the firing of bullets had belted right through our classroom door.
The unforgettable screams and cries, the 16th of December proved to be a true villain in disguise. These monstrous men carried the weapons of death. A barbaric, cunning and evil act, caused extreme destruction and left nothing intact. I gripped onto my sweater and screamed for my mother, and he sprinted towards me without an ounce of care or bother.
A bullet through his head, my friend had dropped dead. My teacher, my brave angel and warrior came running in an attempt to rescue me. “Please don’t hurt him,” she plead and held her arms out in front of me selflessly.
“Children are innocent, what have they done to deserve such brutality?”My wonderful teacher, whom I’ll never forget, The one who believed in me, and helped me grow… A true warrior, carer and educator who was taken aback, all in one blow!
Four deafening gunshots and firing bullets right through her chest, she dropped right in front of me,and in extreme agony I fell to her feet.
It was in that moment that I knew, I was taking the last breaths of my life, as he yielded his trench knife. A penetrating trauma and a stab to the neck, left me in a total wreck. I sit from the heavens above, and still hear the cries, what happened on that day was completely unjustified.
I close my eyes and oh how I wish, I could return to the so-called norms of life. I hold my hands in a silent prayer and shed a tear for the precious lives lost. I pray for peace, love and humanity, for there are no excuses for such wicked immorality.
The Writer is based in Manchester.