In a land not too far away was a small boy patiently waiting for his dad to finish his work and then take him to the marketplace. Parook couldn’t wait to start smelling the fresh herbs and spices the market supplied. As he calmly waited with tied shoes, a freshly cleaned dark grey shirt, and beige pants blending in with the environment, he wondered what his dad was going to get this time for dinner. 

Were you to ask people in the Western regions, they’d say Parook and his family lived in a dilapidated state. However, it was anything but broken in the the eyes of this young boy. Despite the fact he has never lived a life where he’s had the privilege of running water or a regular source of food, he still loved his home. 

“Parook, are you ready to go,” asked the boy’s father and Parook instantaneously shouted “Yes!”

Parook swiftly jumped up off the ground where he was playing with his makeshift toys and ran to his dad. Not having easy access to a store led Parook to discover he wasn’t just gifted in being able to smell unique herbs and spices, he also had a keen sense of making tools and toys. It’s one of the few past-times he can participate in without risking his life. Traveling to the market may have been one of his favorite things to do, but it didn’t change the risk associated with it.

The buildings surrounding their home were falling apart over years of conflict. But, this didn’t stop the people from continuing on with their lives. Walking through the streets Parook said hi to all the people he knew. The trust he had for these people was everything he could ask for. After all, they were in a conflict with a group of people who wanted them dead or at least subservient to their ways.

Their enemy wants their history wiped out because it makes them uncomfortable to be around, while people within their neighborhood want to control it with a tight fist. Thankfully, his neighborhood was relatively calm and didn’t have to deal with too many radicals and the ones they had the unfortunate time meeting let them go with a tribute. 

There was even the unfortunate day where they met some pretty nefarious radicals. They threatened to kill Parook unless his father gave in to their demands, which was giving the food they bought. Not money they could use to buy more food or stronger weapons. It was the food they worked all week for. A parent’s love for their child will always outweigh some food, though.

Since this incident, Parook and his family started taking an alternate route to the marketplace. Not only was this for extra security, but it avoided any unsavory radicals wanting to control them. Parook and his family knew some of these people; they were once friends they ate dinner with. But, times can get hard for people and desperation causes them to do inhumane actions. 

Despite this, they were still able to meet new and friendly faces walking this fresh route. People who only want to support each other. Parook routinely played with all the kids he saw while his dad searched for herbs. It was the best of both worlds for Parook, he got to enjoy the market and play with all of his friends. It was a Sunday tradition he held closely.

He quickly became friends with these people and showed them the different games he invented. Parook knew these people would never allow some kind of conflict to appear around him. In a sense, these people were his family. He knew he could go to anyone one of them and ask for assistance and they would try their hardest to satisfy him. There is even a man who owns a candy shop who gives him a free taste of his newest formula whenever they walk by. 

Parook’s life isn’t too outlandish nor is it as safe as it should be. Parook quickly learned this fact when he heard the sound of metal rain so many of his people were afraid of. The sound of these iron birds wasn’t awe-inspiring. They were a symbol. A symbol of war. A symbol Parook will never forget as long as he lives.

Parook didn’t even have time to react to the explosion before he was sent flying back into a rundown building. He laid there for a solid three minutes before he woke. When he did wake up, there was nothing but shooting pains spreading throughout his body. Trying to ignore the splitting headache, lack of visibility and damage done to his being, he scanned the area for his dad; “Papa?! Papa?!” He continued to shout, but the crying in his voice was making it hard to speak too clearly. It didn’t help he wasn’t the only person who was missing their loved ones.

Looking around you’d see and hear dozens upon dozens of people screaming, crying and wandering around looking for those they care about. Parook forced his injured body to get up and look around for his dad, but the dust flying in the air made it hard to breathe and see. He tried to move the rubble sitting around him when he woke up, but his father wasn’t there. Parook decided to search farther out to see if his beloved father was shot somewhere distant.

Before he could start his trek a random woman came running out of nowhere and hugged Parook as tight as a properly done braid. “My poor baby! You are okay! Praise Allah you are still here!” Parook didn’t know this woman though and just continued to blankly stare at her. It wasn’t until a couple of minutes later⁠—when the dust started to clear⁠—did she realize her mistake. She didn’t take to this confusion as kindly as Parook did and immediately started to frantically search again while her tears streamed down her face resembling Niagara Falls.

Parook started to wonder why someone would do this to him and his family. They did nothing to them and they still bombed us as if we were animals. Parook knows we are all human beings and everyone should be treated properly, which is what caused him to slowly get angrier and angrier. He tried to stifle this anger until he found his dad, but this wouldn’t come for days. When Parook finally found his loving father, he was hit with another explosion; a grief bomb.

His father’s face was barely recognizable from the shrapnel implanted into his face from the blast and he laid under mounds of rubble. Parook hastily pulled as much of the debris off to try and see if this was actually his dad. But, the tattoos on his arm and what was left of his clothing was all Parook needed to know it was his dad. He slowly got to his knees and called out to him once more, “Papa? Papa? Daddy”, but it was only met with deafening silence. 

Parook’s screams and crying could be heard from almost a half a mile away. Parook didn’t know what to do but knew he couldn’t leave his father. He tried to pick him up, but he wasn’t strong enough. He tried dragging him home, but his body wouldn’t budge. Calling out to people was pointless because they were finding their own people. Defeated, Parook just wept next to his father’s lifeless body until help eventually came.

This was supposed to be a carefree day to the market. He just wanted to say hi to the candyman, get his free candy, play with some friends and smell the spices of the market. Now, these were the last things on his mind. Out of all of the thoughts racing through his head, one stood out the most; revenge on those who did this. The only thing capable of making him happy from this day forward is to take action against the people who created such trauma and turmoil. 

He didn’t understand why people like him were detested so much and continuously barraged with weapons decimating their people. Every year there are fewer adults and more children vulnerable to the dangers of the world. Growing up in a world where you are consistently hammered by artillery builds up nefarious emotions people shouldn’t hold toward one another. Children like Parook won’t sleep a soundless night until their wishes were made into reality. Down with the tyrants. Down with America.