(no subject)
I was in the temple. The day was sweaty and masked by a hot fog that rose up from the ground. All of the candles were lit. They flickered in the early morning's breadth. Men with thick beards and women with heavy scarves rushed around me to take their seats before prayer began. The collective silence was deafening as the villagers gathered their thoughts in preparation. A dark skinned girl threw open the temple doors and lurched forward in a staccato motion. She fell face down inbetween the rows of wooden pews. A knife protruded from the left of her spine and thick red blood pooled on her lower back, then spilled over her bone coloured wrap and onto the floor. Everybody stared motionless at the red drops. The tiled floor quivered right before the blast. Women feverishly grabbed their children and began running. Heat spread rapidly from wall to wall. I was there. I was there but I could not move. A small boy with dirt on his cheeks looked up from underneath his thick black bangs. His sad eyes seemed to plead with me, I did not know what he wanted me to do. Bullets echoed across the cement structure and people began to fall with legs and arms akimbo. I noticed a door behind the altar and began running towards it, grabbing the boy by his arm and almost dragging him along as I ran faster. I was only feet away from the heavy wooden door when a second blast came. This time I fell to the ground and hit my head as I fell. I felt heat spread through my body as I slipped out of consciousness.