Those who walk the earth… -a short, fiction storyby Nick Paleologos*
‘Stay home’ a banner on the main square reads. Nadir smirked as he tears down the soaked piece of paper, holding a plastic bag full of goods, given to him and his family.
‘Stop acting weird Nadi! You are scaring me with this nonsense’ she reacts. Storm clouds are gathering again and everyone is preparing their tents and makeshift homes for the worst. No one worries as much as Nadir today though. He has that feeling in his stomach, like he did on the day his home turned into a pile of debris; a gift given to him by the barrel bombs.
As he walks up the meandering road to the camp, he softly sings a lullaby his grandmother taught him before embarking on the bus to the unknown European shores. ‘Sing this to your children and I will always be alive. Your eyes might mist, you will feel your chest heavy but you will have the warmth of my blankets and the smell of my soup. This will be your home.’
‘My Fatima, bring the kids in, those clouds look threatening’, despite knowing it wasn’t the weather. Ismael’s eyes are red and his breathing feels heavy. Nadir touches his boy’s forehead and he is burning up. They all fear that the virus has visited their family and they dread for the worst.
Amidst the small ponds created from last night’s downpour, Ismael and Asma jump in the mud with their boots. Nadir prepares the kettle for the evening tea. The song cannot leave his head today and he starts to worry. ‘Something seems wrong today, Fatima’ he whispers to his wife.
The first rain drops fall as the night starts covering the camp. The smell of the wet soil covers that of the burning wood and all you can
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