Bombs_on_the_Boat

This is in responce to a prompt for yr 12 english (encountering conflict). It's an imaginative piece that explores the consequences of the Taliban through a metaphor. It's inspired by the section of the Rugmaker where Najaf, alongside many other asylum seekers, are on a boat that is almost crushed by the waves. I also have a statement of intention or written explanation that is unfinished. he prompt:" Conflict is an inevitable part of life, we find ways of dealing with it" Imaginative. I’m stuck in this world without a path. I walk in a jungle of mysteries, seeking to solve them. Nothing comes my way and frustration sinks into my soul. I tread carefully and hold onto hope as it guides me. I wear strong boots yet over and over again I am bitten by a creature. The creature feeds on my hope and kills my desires. This boat was my path to safety. My path to a normal life. One where i could raise my little girl and live peacefully with my wife. This boat now leads me to death. I fear that I will drown as I do not know how to swim. I fear that I will be killed as I do not have it in me to fight. It seems as though control has escaped me. The memory of my homeland provides a comforting escape. I think of the vast land in Afghanistan, sheep wondering freely, the clear blue skies and the crisp sunshine that forms a shadow of my house. The same house that my beloved brother, Gorg Ali, had helped to build. I am sound asleep in my room, my family is safe. I love the night as it is the one time I do not have to turn around and look over my shoulder to make sure that someone isn’t following. The darkness of the sky holds me in a dream. Then all of a sudden something bombards my house. The brightness of the explosion blinds me momentarily. The fierce power of the bomb leaves me in shock. I want to stop them but they collide with such force that I am left frightened. I hear screaming and cries of pain. It is my mother. I jump onto my feet feeling light headed. The ground below me is not that of my home. Screams echo into my ears. The monstrous water and merciless weather engulf the complex that holds me. Thunder and lightning feed the screams as they become hysterical. Things are falling off benches and the walls are being torn away from the floor. The boat fights the rough waves, but the crushing force causes water to seep into the lower deck. I am knocked off my feet as the ground pulls me down. The force of the waves against the boat throws me to the other end. My head hits the metal leg of a chair and I faint. Silence. The floor becomes stable. I hear a very faint scream of one person. It gets louder and louder. Then the room begins to shake momentarily, as if an earthquake has hit. Explosives give birth to a merciless fire. I cannot escape. My mother’s screams become unbearable. I wonder who would do such a thing. I curse the Taliban for their use of bombs to destroy my family. I resent them for making me feel so powerless. “Najaf... Najaf! NAJAF” I open my eyes to see an Iranian woman holding onto her baby. She speaks to me in Arabic. She tells me that the boat was engulfed by horrible weather and that I had been knocked out after hitting my head. She tells me that I had been cursing the Taliban and crying. I stand up and head above deck. The sky is bright blue and the sea is pleasant. I breathe in the soothing air and let out a calm sigh. How quickly do things change' I hope that this boat finds land soon, before another storm tests its strength. Guiding myself back below the deck I open the Qua’ran and begin to pray. It fuels me with hope and brings me back to being complacent.