He could hear the blasts from far away. It happened every day and night. Heavy eyelids lured him into a dream. Balloons, kites and the pretty prints his mother wore. She stroked his hair, saying, “Always take care of your baby sister.” He nodded, holding onto her sleeve. He was five, his sister two.
Loud noises tore him from the kaleidoscope. His sister wailed as the walls shook and crumbled down. In the foggy air, he dashed to her crib and picked her up. He squatted in a corner and covered her head with his hands.
Bio: Sebnem E. Sanders is a native of Istanbul, Turkey, living currently on the Eastern shores of the Southern Aegean where she dreams and writes Flash Fiction and poetry, as well as longer works of fiction. Her stories have appeared on the Authonomy Blog, The Drabble, and Sick Lit Magazine.