The sky was in a foul mood again tonight. For days now, it’s been growling and rattling, like someone up there is hurling massive boulders straight down at us. Mum and I woke up at the same time. She quickly bundled me in a blanket, pulled me close, and hurried us into the loo.
Whenever that awful racket starts, that’s where we hide—the smallest room in our flat, next to the mop bucket and towels. We sat on the cold tiles. Mum whispered a prayer. I watched her lips—they trembled, but she kept going, asking for me, her little boy, to stay safe, for peace to return… for the war to end.
I don’t fully understand what war is. But I know one thing—Dad’s out there, where the war is. And I know it’s why the sky’s turned mean and noisy. That’s what the lads from the estate told me. Though I haven’t seen them in ages—Mum won’t let me outside. She only goes out once a day, to the shops. Just for bread.
I sat there, listening to her prayer. I felt a bit sad… and bored. I thought of Teddy—my soft, cuddly bear. He always helped when I was scared.
“Mum, can you fetch Teddy for me, please?” I asked.
She looked at me, squeezed me tight.
“Right now?”
“Yeah, I want to hug him. He’ll help.”
Mum always did what I asked. Even two ice creams in one day—she’d say yes. She nodded, smiled, and said,
“Don’t leave this spot, all right?”
I promised. And waited.
A few minutes passed. Then the ground groaned. Something crashed so hard the whole block shook. A tile popped off the wall and rolled across the floor. I was terrified. But Mum told me to stay put, so I did. I started counting—one to a hundred. Wanted to go to two hundred, but I forgot what comes after. Mum promised when I’m seven and start school, I’ll learn it all. I can’t wait.
I counted again, but Mum didn’t come back. I called for her. Soft at first, then louder. No answer. So, trembling, I stepped into the hallway.
Dust hung thick in the air like fog. Debris everywhere. Nothing looked right. I walked to the lounge where we watched cartoons. A wall was lying there. Half the ceiling had caved in. Somewhere under the rubble had to be Teddy… and maybe Mum.
I wanted to scream, but remembered—when the sky’s angry, you stay quiet.
I thought maybe Mum got scared and ran outside. Probably waiting for me there. I had to find her.
Her slippers were still in the hall. So she’d gone barefoot. I grabbed my coat and stepped out.
Dark. Terrifying. Cold right through me. I looked around—didn’t recognise our street. Everything was different. One house was just rubble. Another missing a wall. The corner shop where Mum bought bread was blackened, lifeless.
“Maybe streets always look like this at night,” I thought. “Or maybe the war did it…”
If war’s this cruel, breaking everything—why doesn’t someone punish it? Why do grown-ups act scared and stay quiet? Why doesn’t someone put it in the naughty corner?
If war were here right now, I’d kick it hard. I’d shout, “Go back where you came from! You’re horrible!” And it’d run off. Because I’m strong.
I walked towards the square where pigeons used to gather. None today. I looked up—and saw it. A falling star. A proper one, bright, not like the others. Like it was coming straight for me.
I knew—when a star falls, you make a wish.
I knelt, just like Mum does when she prays. Closed my eyes.
“Please let me find Mum. And Teddy. And make the war go away forever.”
That’s all I asked for.
