Essay 2 by Lizzie

  I'm standing in the middle of people fleeing. It's too loud around here, people screaming in my ear, running for their lives. There is a sense of panic in the air. I feel dazed, and everything is so faint. It feels like I just woke up from a long, long sleep. My instincts are telling me to run with the crowd, but I'm rooted the spot.
 
  I hear a distant boom and the ground shakes from under me. For the first time I look around. Cream-colored square houses, people wearing hoods and sandals, no trees... and a lot of sand. I see sand hills and smoke building up from behind them, but beyond that I see nothing, absolutely nothing. I'm probably somewhere in the Middle East or the desert, but it seems more like a tiny village in the middle of nowhere.
  
  The sun is so hot I can almost feel it burning my skin. I lift my hand to shield my eyes when I notice that I'm grabbing on something. A small boy, of 5 or 6 is holding onto my hand. His angelic face is covered with bloody cuts and layers of sand. The dark, curly hair is just a mess of dripping mud. The rest of his body is covered with tattered, shabby clothes which no longer reveal its original color. He is whimpering like a lost puppy and his eyes are already an overflowing pool of tears.
 
  Something about his expression makes me jump back to my senses. I hold him tightly and bolt off. I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm running from, but I feel the need to protect this boy. I make my getaway to close buildings, but oddly enough, they won't get any closer. I feel trapped.
  
  I hear an explosion nearby, sending debris and sparks flying. People run for cover. Somehow I know that the next one will be close. Another blows up, and the ground beneath our feet caves in. The Earth swallows us whole as we make our fall through an endless black pit. I feel the boy's grip slipping away as I frantically reach for him. I catch a glimpse of his tear-streaked, terrified face at the last moment when I finally recognize him; he's my brother.