• The missile whistled through the air at an incredible speed. The people of the village, helplessly standing by, were waiting for the missile to make impact, to get the deaths over with. The people of the village did not run, but stood together and stood their ground.

    Some, with guns, tried shooting the missile, so that it could explode before impact. But unfortunately, all the shots missed and we ran out of ammunition. I remember back in that poor, old village, I was a lonely, homeless boy. I had never known anyone as a friend, I was forced to steel for food, and nobody ever cared about what happened to me. I stood at the back of the crowd, physically andmentally.

    As the missile continued it’s decent, I wondered: am I truly meant to live? Or was I supposed to die a young age? But before I could answer myself, the missile landed. I felt tremendous, indescribable shockwaves underneath my feet. The last thing I ever heard was the shouts and pleads for life from children, mothers, and fathers being blasted into the air. I felt my legs snap as I was blasted into the air along with them. The fiery explosion whipped flame across my face and I yelped in pain. Wind rushed through my hair as I made my decent. I scrunched close my eyes as my face met the ground, as I expected the end to my short, pointless, waisted life. But I did not feel any pain. Infact, once my small body had slammed against the ground, I surprised myself by opening my eyes and getting up with ease. I stood up and looked around at small fires and lonely, dead bodies. And again I asked myself: am I really meant to live? I noticed I couldn’t hear anything. I clicked my fingers next to my ears and realized that I was deaf. But now I looked around me at many buildings crushed, destroyed, on fire, and absolutely demolished. Except one. The small church of Christ was still standing. The cross at the front was radiating a faint glow. And now I could answer my question. yes, I really am meant to live.