She closed her eyes and remembered the flowers in her mother’s garden and how red the roses would grow.

“Go on, my rose, go,” the compassionate voice of her mother repeated time and again in her head, as it had been doing for the past week spent in her absence and sheer suffering. She remembered her mother’s way of watering down a tide of panic that frequently arose in her stressed head, as she ….

“Stop,” she had to remind herself to regain composure, to not completely lose it.

“Mama is gone. Mama is gone. Mama is gone,” this jarring voice in her head grew louder and louder as she stepped over one steep rock after another, laying on the scale between life and death, spread apart by mere seconds.

“Faster! Faster! We need to press on as quickly as possible to reach the border, where safety awaits us. Trod on! God is the Greatest!” the leader of the small band of survivors chanted, urging everyone onward beneath a misty cloud of both hope and delusion.

“God is the Greatest!” she chanted back as loud as she could with the bare energy left in her frail body, causing her voice to fade into that of her more resilient clansmen.

The fact that she was the second slowest of the small group, suffering twice the intensity of weakness as those ahead, didn’t do much to build her willpower, either. But Noor did, always did.

“Salama, where is your strength?” screamed her dearest comrade, Noor. “Is this all that you’re good for? Your mother’s efforts amount to just this — a frail girl unable to chase her dreams?” she continued, piling heap after heap of rage in Salama’s soft heart, giving rise to monumental speed as she trod on the path to safety that would make even the most brutally trained soldiers scream with fear and pain.

Salama quietly repeated the comforting words of her mother inside her head, building courage, each letter by letter. They trod on firmly with nothing but the weight of responsibility and their dreams weighing upon their shoulders, preventing their tired hearts from shattering into a million pieces.

These people were her people — the people of her crippling land, unfit for them to live in, but remaining as alive as a fully fed fire. Each one of them was missing a finger, a leg, a brother, a mother or all of those. Each of them was at risk of losing their soul that frantically banged against the restraints of their ribs, begging to be freed from the devastation it had suffered from for the past three months since the hour of horror came upon it, dressed as the apparent revolution.

Their houses become part of the havoc that the world saw only from drones, and ignored as conveniently as ever. Income was a thing unheard of. Utilities were practically non-existent. Life in their land was brutally extinguished, leaving nothing but desolation in its wake.

Despite the endless suffering, Salama and every single one of her people, her dear people, faced each day with unparalleled courage, knowing that hope was the only thread they were hanging by, but also duly aware of its ability to carry them to greener pastures.

That belief was the only thing that allowed Salama to wake up every day, with a faint flicker of yearning still burning in her heart. She always thought that everything would be alright and bearable because she had her people — the survivors — by her side. All until the painful cries of her young neighbour, Asma, emerged from under the boulder to her northeast.

“Help!” she screamed with agony, gutting Salama to the ground.

“Asma! You’ll be fine! We are coming!” screamed the courageous leader of their little band, sending spirals of determination to each of their souls.

“To Asma, now! Everybody, move! If one of us does not make it, none of us do!”

The last sentence gripped vigorously at every inch of Salama’s muscles, sending bursts of unmatched energy up her joints, making her remember one of the main lessons her mother taught her.

“Remember, my rose, God only tests his strongest soldiers,” she used to say in her sweet voice, “the ones He loves the most, He blesses them with tests, so that they can reach greater heights in heaven.”

Repeating the lesson in her head once again, she jumped past the patch of mud that separated her from the frail body of her neighbour, being crushed by the ruthless boulder minute by minute.

“Asma!” she screamed, with her voice merging with those of her persistent people once again. Unaffected by her weariness, she trudged on to where the poor cries of her neighbour emerged.

In the blink of an eye, all the members of her inseparable band gathered around the boulder, anticipating their leader’s directions.

“All for one and one for all!” chanted their leader firmly, “God has ordered us to show mercy to His creatures so, we cannot leave her alone. If one of us dies, all of us should, out of utter shame. Hurry! Lift it!”

Having received the clear instructions, all of them put their wounded hands onto the boulder, scurrying to get the poor girl out alive. Muffled breaths and painful cries encapsulated the air around them.

“Asma, you’re alright! We are almost there!” screamed Salama, being the closest one to the vicinity of Asma’s head. Noor had managed to shake the boulder to the left, accompanied by a dozen strong-willed warriors, enabling her to quickly tend to the wounds on Asma’s hands. The poor girl’s body was shaken and hurt, yet she refused to give up, to lose hope. She was surrounded by people who would save her.

Little by little, but with strength and enormity of courage, they manage to overpower the ferocity of the boulder and lift the poor girl into their hands as Noor hurriedly tended to her open wounds. Salama disinfected them as Asma muffled her painful cries that emerged due to the absence of anaesthesia.

Asma fought on, as an elder carefully lifted her injured body upon his shoulders. They had no one, but themselves, and that was their biggest blessing in disguise.

As she looked upon the few miles that separated them from their border of safety, Salama felt tougher than ever. The muddy, barren land now appeared to be a garden full of deep red roses. The path ahead was a path to sunshine, dreams and victory, purely because they had each other.

Published in Dawn, Young World, October 26th, 2024