Do You See Stars

By: Charlotte Poon

“Do you see stars?” my sister asked me, her eyes wide as she gazed at the red sky above. 

“There are nothing but rockets above our heads…” I muttered. 

A moment passed as we sat on a bed by the window. We could see the sky, since we were on the top floor of a small hospital. We were silent, not uttering a word, solely comforted by the tight warmth of our palms as I held her hand and she gripped onto mine.

I opened twitter on my phone, the only outlet where my voice could reach through to the world. In these bleak days, the thought that relying on social media to save my life was ridiculous had never crossed my mind.

The art I drew on the cracked screen of my phone had received twenty four thousand likes from strangers around the globe. There was nothing but a hollow apathy in my chest. 

I desperately checked the donations I received. Today, three donations. Every number no more than five hundred U.S. dollars. 

Above the post promoting my donation was a quote. 

‘Just a reminder to donate through trusted charities. People on gofundme might be frauds’

My head burned with frustration, as if the fever and nausea were not enough to bear. At this rate, it would never be enough. 

It was not fair at all. 

The lag, the quivering of my weakened hand, I struggled to type a single word. 

One day, my family and I would find new home in a refuge of freedom. Another country. Every day, even today, I prayed with faith and hope in my words. Although as each exhausting and cacophonous day of stagnation passed, the hope began to seep away. 

If only we had the money. If only our health was in the right conditions. I suppose all of us were fortunate enough to barely survive the past many months. 

I had never forgotten the ruined university, blown to ashes along with my dream and the dreams of many other young people I knew. I began to lose sight of the reason for all of it, this so called conflict we could never even fight back. There were many people around the world who heard us. We received money, hygiene supplies and bland, meagre food. We received words of support and kindness on the internet, although we received the opposite as well. Even so, every one of us continued to suffer in agony.

No matter how reasonable or desperate our voices echoed, countless homes, friends and family members would never return. Perhaps not even our land.

The sounds outside began to ring again. Those were the sounds of spiteful hostility that broke buildings, and along with them…people.

My sister suddenly grabbed me around my shoulders for dear life. She made me drop my phone, but I could not complain. Never once did I imagine that a child who had barely even started school would hold back her anguished sobs. 

Glancing out the window, my sister once again asked me, 

“Do you see stars?” 

Smiling weakly at her, I replied. 

“...we’ll see them soon.”

Rationale: This short prose I wrote was inspired by the story of a Palestinian girl in Gaza.