'A day in Gaza through the eyes of a sufferer'

A day in Gaza through the eyes of a sufferer

It was day 16. A lot of the buildings have been destroyed. They’ve even destroyed some of the mosques. They said all they wanted was the Hamas leaders. They said it so simply, as if it could be done simply, and it clearly wasn’t. Their methods for finding things were destroy and kill, and they didn’t even check the bodies. If the Hamas leaders were blown up, Israel would never know and thus never stop.

17 year old Zackaria went off to find some food and water, that had been supplied by Morocco and some Egyptian rogues. When I watched him leave he scared. He walked fast and kept looking up at the sky. Meanwhile I watched some children playing outside with some rocks that were shot from the planes. There were on fire still, I overheard a soldier call it phosphorus or something. They just scattered in the air and destroyed whatever they hit. I just heard an explosion in the distance… It was in the same direction that Zack’ headed. I was starting to worry. Could something as food and water take so long to get? Now that I think about it, he’d been gone for about an hour. I couldn’t tell for sure because my clocks had been damaged a few days ago after a bomb landed near my house.
I carried on watching the children as they played and laughed with their friends. They seemed so innocent, and I felt sorry for them all. Out of all of us the children deserved this least.

I think another half-hour passed before I saw the blood soaked Zack limping back towards us. He was empty handed and from the look of his body it was obvious that he had been hit by some part of that bomb. I watched his little brother run toward him. As I watched the two brothers hugging and crying it seemed that no one noticed or heard the sound of the plane that fired down at us…

I opened my eyes as I picked myself up from the ground, only hoping no one was hit. I surveyed the street and saw where it had landed. Then I saw, laying there, Zack and his brother. Dead.
What did I think? What could I think? As I looked at the spot where my two sons laid, as I looked up at the plane that killed them, a mother could only think, “Why?”