The Beach

Reef Amman Eddine

The beach. Blue. Sand. Yellow. Sun. Red. Blast. Light. Blood. What happened? I don’t know. What happened? I don’t know. It’s all shattered now. I lost my safe space. I lost my childhood. I lost my memories. I lost my happiness. All of them tainted with the bitter metallic taste of blood and the blinding light of the explosion.

I learned to swim when I was a child on my mother’s arm, floating as she held me. I learned to survive on my mother’s arm, the cold tinge of water encompassing us, the vastness of the sky a threat, for we had no shelter. But that was so long ago, long before the explosion.

Perhaps my mind mutilated the once-beautiful memory I had held onto for so long. Perhaps. Or perhaps the explosion was there all along, waiting until it had the best chance to hurt us. I am alive. The beach is dead. I survived. The safety didn’t.