It’s time, to put an end to Gun Violence.

I haven’t written in so long! This post deals with a more serious subject- gun violence and it’s impacts. Gun violence affects millions across the globe every year- it tears families apart, it leads to the death of millions of innocent people. Gun violence must stop. Here, I’ve projected the thoughts of a ten year old, whose mother had been a gun violence victim.

This is a work of fiction.

Hope you like it. Have a great weekend. Let your loved ones know just how much they mean to you. 😀

James screamed,and tried to break free from the doctor’s grasp.

“No. I’m not leaving Ma. She’s sick.”
He tugged at the doctor’s coat’s sleeve.
His face betrayed his deepest, darkest fear.
Losing his ma.

That evening, he ran back home.
He stomped up the staircase.
Tears streamed down his face. They wouldn’t stop.
They stung his eyes so bad, it hurt. His eyes kept welling up.
Ma had been so happy only yesterday.
She sounded so happy on the phone.
She said that she was bringing him a box of his favourite coconut and vanilla flavoured chocolates.
‘I’m on my way to the airport”, she’d said.
“I’m coming home”, she’d said.
She never did.

He opened the wooden chest under his bed.
Memories from happier times spilled out of the box.
They wiped away his tears, and pulled him closer.
They sang him to sleep that night.
They told him that everything would be alright.
He kept a photograph of ma close to his bed.
It kept him warm inside.
It made him feel safer, somehow.

Ma was young. He didn’t know just how old she was.
‘Not too old,’ he thought to himself.
She had long brown hair, that smelled of peppermint.
And jasmine oil.
When she smiled, her face lit up like a distant star.
She was always so strong on the outside.
Was she crumbling on the inside?
Was she secretly breaking on the inside?

But Ma never said a word about that!
James always thought of her as his idol.
He had never seen someone who worked so hard, to make ends meet.
His dad had left them, when he was two,
She had brought him up, single-handedly.
She travelled for weeks,
But never complained.

The wind howled outside, in the trees,
The yews towered over the sidewalk.
Silver moonlight filtered in through the cracks in the window pane.
It landed close to ma’s picture.
Like a silver halo.
Ma looked so happy, in the picture.

He remembered hearing the telephone ring, in the middle of the night.
The police had called.
They said that he’d have to come down to the airport.
He knew that ma wasn’t quite okay.

He was a big boy now, wasn’t he?
Or so ma had said to him.
He was ten after all.
He liked being treated like an adult.
But now, he felt so weak.
So powerless.
He needed ma to be by his side.
Somehow, he didn’t feel like an adult anymore.

They promised that his ma would be okay.
He saw them pull her stretcher into the ambulance.
There had been a crazy gunman on the plane.
He had shot her,
He had shot her in the head.

He saw life being slowly sucked out of her.
She was breathing so heavily, when he had gone and stood by her side.
And held her song,
And tell her, that everything would be okay.
Because he knew, somewhere deep inside,
That it wouldn’t.

He’d watched reports about gun violence on the telly.
The lady spoke very seriously about it.
He didn’t understand, how seeing someone die gave someone pleasure.
Why was everyone allowed to have a gun?
Why did only blood spill?
Couldn’t one overflow with love?

He saw the gaping hole in her forehead, through the gauze bandage.
It’s just a teeny-little hole, he had whispered to himself.
“Ma, I’m coming,’
He ran behind her.
He ran towards the ambulance.
THEY stopped him.
Their strong hands held him behind.
“Let go of me”, he’d screamed.
But they didn’t.
Maybe, a ten year old’s opinion didn’t matter to them.

‘Must it have hurt?,’ he thought as he lay in bed.
He tossed and turned uneasily.
Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.
Would ma be okay?
Would ma be okay soon?
Would ma come home?

A mile away,
Ma lay on a hospital bed.
Fighting for her life.
Standing at the edge of the canyon of death.
She could hear the muffled whispers of the doctors.
“I think we’ve lost her,”
She didn’t want to die so soon.
She knew that she had to get home.
She knew, that she had to get home to James.



8 Comments Add yours

  1. Nethra Thakur says:

    Falling short of words. Its amazing!!!!!!!!!!!
    The entire scene come forth as v read thru. Difficult to hold back tears frm rolling down cheeks. BEAUTIFUL.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ritewordblog says:

      Thank you so much!!!😀


  2. Sanjay Gupta says:

    Wonderful way to prove the serious hazards of reckless gun violence…

    One actually lives those moments from the perspective of little James who would have grown thereon in one moment post his maa’s uncalled for demise….

    Will he become a reckless gun user to avenge the gross injustice faced by his mother and him???…….

    When will society reform such practices….

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ritewordblog says:

      Thank you so much!!❤️😀


  3. Anita lamba says:

    The blog is Superb,I liked it and it is very true about Gun violence it effects the lives of innocent people,Excellent work . Dhruv keep it up

    Liked by 1 person

    1. ritewordblog says:

      Thank you so much!😀😀


  4. Sheetal Punjabi says:

    Great work again!!!! Very well written Dhruv! You surpass our expectations every time!! Proud of you dear… Keep it up!!


    1. ritewordblog says:

      Thank you so much! It means so much to me!😄


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