The endless crawl of a Syrian boy.

The eerie silence stuck on the walls like a moth among broken shadows from a setting sun. Except for the occasional crackling sound from somewhere in the building of a jarred window panel still hung on to its inches, the city remained silent.

He slowly crawled up to the window and looked outside. The broken buildings from last week's bombing on both sides of the road that led up to the horizon looked beautiful. Nothing left resembles the city that it was a week before.

First, they came chanting Islam and bombed everything. Then, the others came chasing Islam and bombed everything. Among the trails of their bombing, he remained smiling as the sight of fire, shouting and crying excited him as never before. He remembered his mother holding him under her body as the buildings crashed. He loved the warmth of her flesh that cushioned him from everything.

Weeks before, when they came, they shouted Allah's name while shooting his father as he pleaded with them in the name of Allah. They still called Allah's name when they took away both his sisters. They found no use for a mentally disabled boy, and so did his fat old mother. Since his mother was not waking up from her sleep, he drew pictures on the floor with the red colour coming out of his father.

He drew birds that fly, the sun that rises, mountains that stand and a river that flows. Among the trees, he also painted a house that had a family. Strangely, the red slowly turned into black. Since his mother did not wake up, he also slept with her.

Weeks after, some others came and bombed the city again. Strangely, this time, no one shouted Allah's name. All he could hear was the thud of bomb explosions and building collapses. He loved the sight of crashing buildings and fire among exploded people.

He got bored after a point and felt the first sign of hunger in his belly. He turned around to look at Mother. She would have had too much food without giving me, he thought. Look at her stomach! It has grown three times more than usual. With uncontrolled anger, he crawled back towards her—an endless crawl of a Syrian boy.