Drums signified war. This night, they filled the air, their, TUM! progressing by the second. Wars grew from disagreements between two. It meant death to many innocents as the two hid away. TUM! drummed the night, TUM!
A family was tested. Father and son were needed. Mother and daughter had to find cover. But death called and they knew… nobody could hide from it, nobody could run from it. Their best chance was enslavement. They’d be raped. Used. No guarantee for life.
Families were tested, but not worse as a house with a baby. There were many and they yowled, signalling death, with natural, innocent fear. If a SLASH! did not follow, then a final, THUD! preceded by screams would. In a better yet bitter case, screams would immediately go up of, “No! No! No!” Then shrill cries–cries with an end to them.
It was a cold night and a new tune was drumming–the drums of home victory. But what did victory mean? Obliterating a threat after losing all the life that mattered? More men than women and children lived. They would one day have their own big world of chaos and no future generations.
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Categories: Short Stories
Benson Langat is a poet, fiction writer, and freelancer. A dreamer, he realizes a world of possibilities through stories and explores life in poetry. Benie is a dad and lives in Nairobi, Kenya.