The thunder of the beast roars like an earthquake destroying everyone in its wake. No clean air...No clean life around.
What is for this life of mine? Shattered glass cuts through the worn down soles of my shoes. Pain surges through the body. Scarlet blood running down my leg.
The smell of death raging through the city. Once smelled of drugs and authentic Asian food; Now rank of death. The cry of a cat or a very quiet child echoes in my ears.
Coming from a torn down children's hospital. A child around 4 or 5 bloody, lost and forgotten. He ran for my arms hugging me with raw arms and tears. I could barely breathe out of shock.
How could an innocent child have this happen to them? Not much to say about my own life. Tears running down my shirt, or what's left of my shirt. Not my own but of the child.
Ear clenching screams rattle my body from the child. How could a child have that loud of a scream? I thought. I ask of the little boys' name, he gave no answer just silence.
I ask again but to no avail. The young child fell into my cold broken body. Heart still beating; I walk with the poor child in my arms.
Walking a mile or so it seemed to (or what left of it) an old house sorta standing.
With a can of sardines, that I found at a heap that used to be a gas station-there was also so many twinkies there but I didn't go for them-and a somewhat of a fire.
I layed the little boy and placed my shirt on him for a makeshift blanket.
The sound of metal crashing woke us both up. The little boy laid eyes on me and screamed. I sprang up, almost falling into the hot coals of the fire of last night.
My hand reached as a gesture of welcomes to the child. He realized I wasn't a killer and grabbed my hand. I smiled at him with the warmth of my heart cause there was surely none on the outside.
He gave me a confused look as if he saw a demon inside of me. I had ahold of his wrists and I noticed a bracelet on him, a medical bracelet. He was a boy with autism.
Tears ran down my face once more. He and I were miracles to survive.
“Mama?, Dad?” the little boy asked while he looked around as if trying to find them. I gasped for air knowing that they were most likely dead, and he couldn't understand.
I placed my shaky hands on his shoulders “ He is not here nor is she” I said crying. He asked once more “Mama?”. I was almost about to cry even more.
The last time I had ever cried like this was when I didn't pass a quiz in 3rd grade. Seeing this boy so confused and lost was able to kill a man just on emotions.
I realized how easy my life was, but I needed to stop sobbing and survive not just for me but for the little boy.
The power of the storm can change everything. From all walks of life can have the same outcome and stay united together. Sometimes the saddest stories have the more important morals.
Bad things might happen in your life but they all happen for a reason, a lesson I have have learned more than once.
My life has lead me to writing this story of power and strength through the toughest times, because I have been through power in the worst of times.
I am not ashamed to say broken but I am also not afraid to say I am strong. Love the ones you have before they go away. Take the lead of your own life cause no one else will.