When I was a little boy, I used to run off in the woods with my brothers: Daris, and Ahmed. Daris little legs would always be a few steps behind us. We would swim in the creek, one end to the other. My arms that were too long for my body would flail in the water, so we would quit soon after. If we didn’t, Ahmed would spend hours teasing me about it. We would climb the tallest trees, just to see if we could spot our house. We never could, we were too far. When night would fall, we were still out until our mother, Amina, would shout at us to come back in. We always came into the house with bruises and scrapes, but we always went back just to feel the soft soil in our toes, or the harsh scrape of bark. A few times, we were joined by our neighbors, so we could play a game of soccer. Somehow, Ahmed always found a way to pick a fight with one of the boys. Late at night, Ahmed and I would be listening to the radio. Daris always found a way to sneak past our father, Hasib, to come sit with us. Ahmed would yell at him, which would get us all in trouble. Us, for causing a ruckus, and him, for not being in bed. Nights would be full of punishments and yelling. But they would be full of fantasies and dreams, as well. My mind could take me to extraordinary places.
That was two years ago.

I was the last one to be out of bed in the morning.

“Tarik! Hurry up, or we’ll leave without you!” the gruff voice was followed by a loud thud against the door. I looked around my room, to see darkness. The sun hadn’t risen, but the morning had started. A loud boom was what woke me from my half-asleep state. It was coming from outside. I was getting closer to not being as surprised of the sudden noise than I used to be. Another bang on the door, and I was out of my bed, searching for something to wear for the day.

It was May 3, 1996, but I didn’t know. The days blended, as do the nights, but the noise never does. The people blend in as well. They are the same as the people of the next town, and the one after that. We were all just terrified. The locations blended. The buildings were crumbled, the sky was grey, and the same people were terrorising us. The only difference were names. The city of Doboj became Jelah. Harris became Amer. Azra became Emina. Some stayed the same, like Kenan, and Hajra.

“Let’s go!” The muffled voice on the other side began to fade away by the second word. My boney shoulders slumped, and my body followed my lanky limbs to the outside world.

The trek to the wells wasn’t that long, but the danger that was near made it seem like eternity. I walked in the middle of my two brothers. To my right was my younger brother, Daris. His dark hair came from my father, and his light eyes came from my mother. He was growing quickly. His mess of a hair almost reached my shoulders. To my left was my older brother, Ahmed. He looked just like my father. The dark eyes, and the same, messy, dark hair gave him a feral and dangerous look. His personality was almost the same. I was the in between. Not mixed, or matched, but blended. My hair was not dark, or light, but a brown that leaned more to blonde. My eyes were not like my mothers or fathers, but settled on a hazel. I was thin like my mother, but tall like my father, giving me a breakable form. My feet never seemed to be big enough for my body, and my hands were just too big. At least I knew where my nose came from.
I looked behind us to see my mother and father close by. Never too close to seem overbearing, but close enough to see what could be coming in front, or behind us.

We walked in silence, the sound of danger filling up noise that was not needed.

We could see the well nearby, through the layers of trees. We tried to move quickly, but made an effort to make little noise. It was never safe outside, but it was never safe inside either. But outside made me feel like I was being watched.

Finally, the well became clearer, and I found myself taking the water to be stored. Moments like these, I realised that I lived in my head more than in my body.

Once we were inside the house, I quickly found a place to store the water, and made a beeline for my room. When I was in the safety of my room, my hands were already searching for the current novel I was reading. When my hands reached the old, and torn novel, the crinkled pages launched me to another world.
My mother’s calling brought me out of my fantasy. “Tarik, come eat! Lord knows your eyes will fall off if you keep on reading!” Even though we were 15 feet apart, my mother shouted like I was deaf. Thankfully, my sigh of annoyance was undetected, or else I would be getting an ear full.

The lunch was the same as the day before, and breakfast, and will be the same for dinner. The potatoes and cornbread were so bland, now, that their taste were blended in the same category of nothingness. I couldn’t distinct the smell of the yellow bread to the air that I breathe.

I ate until I felt that I could vomit from the nothingness of food, which still wasn’t much.

When lunch was over, I thought that I could finally finish the novel I was engrossed by, but Daris stole my attention before I could move a muscle. His chattering filled the silence, and somehow, I caught onto the fact that we were going to go listen to the radio.

In the corner of the room was a bicycle wheel. Attached to the wheel were wires, that were attached to the radio. Daris turned the pedal of the bike, while I tuned the radio.

As the crackling of the radio began to lessen, the sirens went off. Serbians were invading the town. We rushed to our shelter, leaving behind the warnings that were going off on the radio.
My father checked to see if everybody was inside while my mother checked the storage. Once my parents made sure everything was okay, we waited. For what, I’m not sure.
If you asked me how long we’d been in the damp, grey room. I wouldn’t be able to answer. The days and nights were blended, but it wasn’t that long. My hunger worked like clock work, every day at the same time. The tree blocking the window let some specks of light in, so I knew when it was day, night, or if something was blocking the window.

I awoke on the old, lumpy mattress on the fifth morning. The shots and bombs that could be heard for the past few days had stopped somewhere near last evening. Our family did not come out because we did not know if it was a trick or not. This morning was as silent as it could get. I could still hear faint bombs exploding, or guns firing, but it wasn’t the same noise that was feet slamming above us, or screams and cries heard down the street. I couldn’t hear my brother Daris whimpering. I could just hear whispers of sounds from miles away.

“Tarik, can we feel the sun, yet?” The soft voice of my younger brother carried around the room.

“I’m not sure.”

“Can we play in the stream, soon?”

“Not for a while, brother.”

“Is there any chocolate left in the world?”

“Bosnia is not the world, Daris. Somewhere else, maybe,” I said with faint amusement.

“Ahmed, when will they stop hurting us?” Such an innocent boy should not be asking such questions. Sadness overwhelmed, and so it did to my older brother.

“Stop asking stupid questions.” He said it harshly, but his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

“Okay.” Daris never was affected by Ahmed’s coldness.

It wouldn’t be until another few hours, until we could return to the surface. But the sun didn’t shine, it was covered by grey clouds. We didn’t play in the stream, it was too dangerous. We didn’t have another piece of chocolate until another two year later. They kept hurting us, but it was going to be okay. It was going to be okay because I had my family, my books, and enough to survive. I wouldn’t live until we were out of Bosnia, and coming to America, the land of opportunities. I would look around, the sun shining on my gaunt face, the sound of waves crashing nearby, and a bar of chocolate in my hand. I would realise that it was okay because I survived, moved forward, and started to live.