A year ago today, Hamas, a terrorist organization, carried out a horrendous and unprovoked attack on innocent men, women, and children in Israel.
More than 1,200 were slaughtered.
Many of the women were brutally raped before being murdered.
Whole families murdered in their homes.
250 people, including very young children and the elderly, were abducted and taken to Gaza.
Many of them are still being held against their will.
This is not okay.
Never Forget.
Bring them home.
It’s impossible for me to forget what happened on 9/11/2001, none of us ever should.
As I write this post, I’m listening to the soundtrack for Come From Away.
If you haven’t had a chance to see this musical, I highly recommend it.
NEVER FORGET
I stare at the old barn through the thick mist. My heart pounds. That barn burned down thirty years ago. Police thought a dropped lighter and moonshine turned that tinder-trap into a lethal blaze. But that wasn’t the cause. I grasp the doorframe; listen to the echoes of the past.
Popular kids like them didn’t ask girls like me to parties, but I was too desperate for companionship to see the warning signs. Besides, Brenton was cute. I sipped my soda while they swigged booze and studied how everyone stumbled through the barn. Drunk was ugly.
I didn’t realize just how ugly until a few more sips into my drink. The walls started to spin. I sank to the ground, limbs heavy and numb. Brenton loomed over me, a strange grin on his face. Before I could get up two of his friends held me down and started to cut away my clothes. I screamed, told them to stop, let me go. They laughed. Nobody could hear me. No one was coming to my rescue. Brenton climbed on top of me.
I don’t remember anything else after that. My clothes vanished. I woke up in my bed, neatly washed and wearing my fleece jammies. Police found three bodies in the charred remains of the barn, toasted from the inside out.
There’s a good reason I stay away from people, hunt alone. Smoke rises from the doorframe. Flames shoot skyward, engulfing the structure again. I’m unharmed. I never am.
“Leave him be, Billy.”
“Dumb wolf cur always stares at us.”
“It’s just his way.”
Billy hurls another rock, but I knock it down with my book. Not a sound comes from the fenced in junkyard, but I know from the look on Billy’s face that Midnight is showing off his pearly whites.
“Fine,” he yells, then disappears around the corner.
Midnight’s golden eyes meet me when I turn. “Sorry, Midnight. See you tomorrow.”
Silence greets me, as it has every day for the past five years. I smile anyway, then hurry to catch up with Billy.
A hand slaps over my mouth and I’m dragged into a dark alley. I crash into a wall. My head spins. Three masked figures loom over me. Hands dig into my pockets, yank off my sneakers. A fist slams into my gut. My heart pounds as a knife flicks into view, arm ready to strike. Billy’s body lies nearby. I clamped my eyes shut, and wait for death.
Screams fill my ears, but they aren’t mine. When I finally open my eyes, my attackers lie in a pool of dark liquid. A pair of glowing gold eyes stare at me from across the alley. Then they vanish.
***
The police never found Midnight and the junk man claimed he never had a dog. I don’t walk that way anymore, but sometimes, out of the corner of my eye, I see Midnight in the shadows, watching out for me.