The Prayer

(includes descriptions of death and war)

Lana remembers her sixth birthday. Her mother gently woke her up in the morning, tenderly embracing Lana in her slender arms, the drapes of her long garments engulfing her daughter like a protective cocoon. Lana inhaled her mother’s scent and rejoiced in the comfort, avoiding putting any pressure on the bulge of her mother’s pregnant belly. Lana was worried her baby brother or sister would arrive today, but that likely wouldn’t happen. Today was all about her.

She remembers her father and brother returning home in the evening. Adam was small for a ten-year-old, crumbling under the weight of a massive Western-style cake balanced in his scrawny arms. Their mother scoffed, asking their father, “Why did you buy such a massive cake? It’s bigger than Lana!”

He laughed loudly. Lana remembers how his vocality was always deep and sonorous – he would joke that it was because his belly was so big. “We can easily finish that cake! Adam and I will eat plenty!”

It was considered a small and simple birthday in their culture. Lana’s mother was too pregnant and tired to prepare and host a party, but Lana didn’t mind. Her mother had brushed and decorated Lana’s thick, velvety hair, which was normally wild and untamed. She remembers how pretty she looked.

Lana’s family sang to her as she gazed excitedly at the candles on her giant cake, the little flames dancing and swaying as if they were celebrating as well. She remembers wishing for all the whimsical, innocent things a little girl would like: all the toys in the world, the prettiest clothes and jewellery, and abundance of her favourite foods and sweets.

She remembers being tucked into bed by her parents, her mother’s soothing murmurs resonating with her father’s vibrant tones. They told their sweet girl how much they loved her, how big she was getting. She remembers how soundly she slept that night.

*

“I’m going now,” Adam called out. Despite his thin frame, he appeared very tall and sturdy-looking by the door, carrying a large sack of fresh biscuits in one hand, and an empty gallon-carton in the other. He would be out all day selling the biscuits to provide for Lana and their mother, and hopefully when he returns in the evening, the carton will be full of potable water. It was obvious his daily labours caused him fatigue and all sorts of stress, but Adam didn’t dare show his fragility. Lana thought he was a younger reflection of their father, whom they missed dearly. He had gone to another country several weeks ago for medical treatment after he was almost killed in an explosion. There were hardly any hospitals here anymore.

Though today was her tenth birthday, there was little for Lana to do nowadays other than keep her mother company. Her mother had become terribly fragile both mentally and physically, the guilt of her youngest child’s death suffocating her like smoke after a bomb strike. Dina’s death was not her fault. She was born a fat and healthy baby, but the lack of proper living conditions, sanitation, and food inevitably caused three-year-old Dina to be with God.

Lana’s mother was still sleeping in the corner of their makeshift house upon a thin mattress. The family’s old home had been reduced to a pile of debris. They were considered a lucky family after being relocated to a solid concrete shelter, though parts of it were destroyed and it was a tiny storage room of an old shop, Lana thanked God for protecting them. Most families had to sleep in decrepit tents. No matter if your father was a middle-class businessman or a humble carpenter, everyone struggled to live with dignity. You could only receive edible food and clean water when God pitied you. If He had his back turned, people had to battle for the foreign aid that dropped from the sky, like mice scrambling for a morsel of cheese, only that the cheese was laid upon a metal trap. Adam had warned Lana of the unfortunate men, women, and children who had been shot or struck by evil soldiers waiting for them to approach the aid drops. Lana had even heard sad stories of people being crushed by the falling aid if the parachutes didn’t work properly.

After some time, Lana’s mother was finally awake. Lana hoped she would embrace her lovingly and sing a soft melody, as she would every birthday morning. But she lay curled into a ball, her coarse greying hair masking her wrinkled face, protecting her body with her frail arms as if she were uncomfortably cold. She didn’t utter a word.

It was almost midnight and Adam still had not returned. Worried, Lana stepped outside into her once-vibrant neighbourhood. Though most buildings still stood intact, the faultier ones had disappeared long ago, leaving behind a mess of wreckage and dust. There were many white and grey tents scattered down the street, looking like abandoned canvases nobody wanted to paint on. Lana ventured to the marketplace – which was in reality a pile of rubble – where Adam usually sold the biscuits, though it was eerily quiet and unmoving, as if the souls who died there were watching Lana. For a moment, she felt uneasy and insecure. She was terribly spindly, and she thought her beloved velvety hair could house a colony of dustmites. Lana felt childish for caring about her appearance at this time.

She rested on an old bench blanketed with tiny splinters when lights like shooting stars streaked across the sky. They danced and dazzled, sparkled and glowed, as if celebrating her birthday, and Lana watched in amazement. Did God send this? The little girl clasped her hands urgently and prayed. She prayed that Adam was safe, then she prayed for baby Dina’s soul. She prayed for her mother to become her mother again, and she prayed that her father would come home soon. Most of all, she wanted her parents to kiss her goodnight so she could sleep soundly. She prayed and sobbed so desperately she was deaf to the thundering roar that charged towards her.

The blinding lights flared, and God answered her prayer.