Annabell Lackner, Grade 12
UWCEA Arusha
“Run,” Elias screamed in desperation trying to drown the shaking sounds of his trembling voice. The calls came in suppressed waves, like a distant serene, but engulfed in a bubble which made everything fade in distance but the bloodshot eyes staring at me, I did not take hold of them. The shock had taken control of me and I stood there, in the empty streets of Dar Es Salaam, enveloped by devouring darkness and unable to move. My eyes wandered up and down the strange figure in front of me, and only when I recognised a damped gleam in the dirty hand of the ragged man, I became aware of the knife pointed in my direction. “Run,” I heard again, this time fully conscious. Just as I lifted my feet from the warm asphalt below, he unbent and came running towards us.
I'm sitting here, again in the dark, again trying to ignore the suffocating uncertainty, while curling up in the corner of the packed wagon. Often I have felt the moist and fishy breath in my neck while I wondered what would have happened if I wasn’t there that night. For sure, everything would be different. A silent squease and the rattling of metal bars against cold stone brought me back to the here and now, only being reminded of the incident by the iching cut on my forehead.
“Help!” “Can nobody hear us?” Every muscle in my body was burning like fire and I could feel the salt searing on my sweaty skin. All oxygen seemed to have left the atmosphere and I hopelessly tried to press some air into my lungs. We were still the only people all around, fighting the exhaustion slowing the sprint and stifling the uproaring panic. A tight, strong hand grabbed my shoulder, pushing me forward onto the floor. Time seemed to have stopped and before my head painfully hit the ground, I could distantly hear the call again: “Run, Annabell!” But this time it was too late.
I'm sitting here, again in the dark, again trying to ignore the suffocating uncertainty, while curling up in the corner of the packed wagon. Often I have felt the moist and fishy breath in my neck while I wondered what would have happened if I wasn’t there that night. For sure, everything would be different. A silent squease and the rattling of metal bars against cold stone brought me back to the here and now, only being reminded of the incident by the iching cut on my forehead.
“Help!” “Can nobody hear us?” Every muscle in my body was burning like fire and I could feel the salt searing on my sweaty skin. All oxygen seemed to have left the atmosphere and I hopelessly tried to press some air into my lungs. We were still the only people all around, fighting the exhaustion slowing the sprint and stifling the uproaring panic. A tight, strong hand grabbed my shoulder, pushing me forward onto the floor. Time seemed to have stopped and before my head painfully hit the ground, I could distantly hear the call again: “Run, Annabell!” But this time it was too late.
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