Shorties: Number 24

This is an excerpt from my story, The Blind Beggar

Car alarms rang in his ears, and he heard voices shouting in the distance.  His heart pounding, Boulos anxiously contemplated what he should do.  The sound of a crying baby met his ears, and he remembered similar event had happened before his parents died.  He saw the fear in his mother’s eyes and heard his father shout in anger at the damn Israelis again launching some attack.  His father lost both parents during the Israeli occupation in the early 1980s and often cursed Israel when he was angry. 

He could hear someone wailing in a way only those who have lost someone in a horrible fashion can understand.  It is a language all its own but once heard, one never forgets it.  Such primal utterings go directly to the depths of the hearer’s soul.  Fear gripped Boulos as noises outside got louder. 

Sirens from emergency vehicles accosted his senses.  He stood up from the bed and promptly stepped on glass with his bare feet.  He immediately flopped back onto his bed and gently probed the soles of his feet for glass.  Each sliver seemed to go straight to the bone.  Dejected and fearful, he shuddered.  He didn’t know what to do.  Certain there were more seriously injured people outside in the area of the blast, Boulos decided to wait until morning and ask Daiwik what he should do. 

Shortly after that, Daiwik sent a message checking on Boulos.  Boulos explained the situation with his feet and shattered windows.  As this text conversation was going on, Boulos heard the lock to the door to the office open, and Charles entered and called out to Boulos.  “Boulos, it's Charles.  Are you ok?”

“Hello, Mr. Charles.  I am ok, but I stepped on some glass.”

“May I come in your room?”

“Yes, please.”  Boulos was happy to have someone with him. 

Charles entered Boulos’s room from his office.  Boulos heard him stand still for a moment after opening the door.  He believed Charles was surveying the damage.  Then Charles said, “Well, it looks like we lost all the windows.  We’ll need to replace the curtains too.  Let’s take a look at your feet.”

“Your family is ok, Mr. Charles?”

“Yes, we are all fine.  I thought I dreamed the blast.  Too bad it wasn’t a dream, huh?

“Yes, Mr. Charles.  I was dreaming when it happened and it scared me very much.”

Charles placed his hand on Boulos’s shoulder and said, “Everything will be ok.  I believe in a God in heaven who is bigger than the schemes of people who only want to kill and destroy.”

The remark caught Boulos off guard but said nothing.  Then he continued the text conversation Boulos had with Daiwik while Charles removed glass slivers from his feet.  Daiwik wanted Boulos to ask Charles if anything was needed.  Charles had looked over the building when he arrived, and it appeared broken windows were the only issue.  He would address them when the city woke up for the day.  During this time, Boulos received more messages from other people who had helped him.  He was not used to the technology and, due to the delay of having Siri read each message, the whole process was cumbersome. 

After the splinters were removed and feet bandaged, Charles started cleaning up the glass in the apartment.  Once this was completed, Charles began working in the office.  Meanwhile, Boulos lay in the bed.  He could only think of Amal’s safety.  He was sure, due to the approximate location of the blast, her building was not damaged, and she was safe.  Nevertheless, he feared she was injured.  His only thought was, “My Amal, I so hope you are ok.”  Over and over the thought repeated in his mind.  It was his sincere hope, a prayer.  Only when Charles spoke up, did he realize he was actually whispering his thoughts.

“Who is Amal?  A friend of yours?”