The Hungry Orphan
Every day we wake up to the sound of loud bombs dropping one after the other.
The soulless clunks of metal from the Rifles, echoing like a jet engine trailing into the distance, repeating itself over the broken houses and rubble and what was left of a few trees.
The sky, always filled with thick fumes and smoke from the shelling and the bombs. I live with Uncle Ayub and Aunty Halimah. My small brother Omar and sister Amina. My name is Dawud and I am the oldest out of all my siblings.
