Flying With The Angels

This is a short story on the aftermath of the evil Israeli attack on the pagers used by fighters in Lebanon on 17 and 18 September 2024, and how this not only impacted the soldiers but also stripped and hurt their families and communities.

I run, my feet pounding on the cobbled street, my short brown hair getting ruffled by the wind and soaked by the rain. My ears are filled with the loud sounds of explosions, ambulance sirens, cries of people, my own heaving, and the rain. When was the last time it was silent here? It feels like I have never heard peace in my life.

Another sound adds to the throbbing of my head. My baby sister cradled in my arms begins to cry louder. I hug her to my chest. “Just a little bit more, and we’ll be there” I manage my voice cracking and flying away with the wind.

Her cries grow louder, echoing in my skull. I feel like sobbing with her, maybe my tears would wash her blood away.

I stop suddenly, breathing hard, and look up at the looming buolding. My heart swells with relief, slowing its frantic hammering in my chest. We have finally reached the hospital.

Slowly my sister’s crying fades, and she goes stiff. Please let her only be sleeping.

I push through the crowd inside, a sea of people with injuries of every kind. There are thousands of cuts and burns to the eyes and stomach, while almost all have bleeding hands. I shove my way through, spotting a tall man in a white coat walking toward a door. I rush in front of him, blocking his path, and my eyes look up at him pleadingly. “Sir, I just need you to check my sister. She’s a baby, and one of the pager explosions struck us.” The doctor hesitates stealing a look towards the door, then nods, softly taking her from my hands.

A series of expressions pass across his face when he looks over to the sleeping baby. “Come with me,” he addresses me, turning and walking through several doors, with me trailing close behind. My mind races, replaying the moment he looked at her. Why did he seem so alarmed? Did he think tha-

“Over here,” The doctor enters a room. He puts my still sister down on a bed with a white sheet spread on it and nods towards a chair. I sit.

“What’s your name, boy?” he asks.

“Yusuf,” I sniff. “Is she hurt?” My only worry is my sister. The white sheet on the bed has started to get soaked with blood.

“How old are you?”

“Ten. Why is she not moving?”

He sighs “Yusuf, where are your parents?”

I start to get frustrated. Why is he not helping her? Why is he asking me so many questions? “Just tell me if my sister is okay.” I pause and remember to be respectful just like Mama taught me. “Please.”

His head tilts to the side as he looks at me with a pitying expression.“She…she is flying with the angels, up in heaven.” he pauses. “We can keep her with us to bury her, but I have to speak to your parents…” He rattles on. Jawing through his nerves, and trying to sooth mine. But even as he talks, I do not understand a thing. My vision blurs and my head spins. I can not hear a word though the sound of my heart beating faster and faster. What does he mean, with the angels? She is not gone; she’s right here! My chest tightens as dread creeps in.

He is still talking. Rambling on like there was not a problem in the world. He is a terrible doctor, I decide. He should be checking and inspecting her. He should have told me before. He should… No, he is wrong. I shake my head and get up. He blinks as I grab my sister off the bed and dash away from the room to the busy hospital. I throw open a random door where a woman is busy bandaging a man’s hand.

She looks up, startled.

I march over to her and hand her the baby. “Is my sister alive?” I am surprised at my own unquavering voice.

The woman does not falter, she inspects my sister and takes her pulse. Then checks her breathing. Each thing makes the woman frown deeper and deeper, making my heart sink lower and lower, until it reaches my feet, and threatens to sink under the glossy ground.

As the doctor starts to open her mouth to reply, I snatch my sister from her hands and flee. Somehow, my gut knows what she is about to say… And I do not want to hear it.

The tall doctor grasps my shirt and ushers me into his office.

“It’s not your fault, you know. She is in a better place now.” Is all he says.

I cry until my eyes feel empty and my chest hurts. Until my grip on the body loosens and the man takes her softly. Until I weep all my feelings are swept away, leaving me as an empty void.

The doctor, all the time, trying to comfort me.