Catcher In The Rye Narrative Essay

I wake to the now familiar smell of smoke, and the blaring ring of sirens. I sit up to see my mother crouched on the floor, cooking breakfast. During breakfast, my mother and I reminisce of our old life, the life we had before Syria was at war. I dream of our house, and our lush, beautiful garden. I remember how the sweet fruit trees filled the air with a beautiful fragrance. I picture playing tag with my brother in our beautiful courtyard, with the summer sun beaming down on us. Suddenly, I am brought back to reality by the deafening sound of an explosion. My ears ring with pain as I feel my mother firmly grip my arm. I turn to see a look of pure terror in my mother’s eyes. We rush out of our shelter into the now hectic streets, and together we sprint from the approaching sound of gunshots.

Scrambling to my feet, I turn to see five men dressed in all black, carrying AK-47s. They start shooting at all civilians in sight. Just before they turn to shoot us, my mother drags me down into the rubble of a nearby house, and we hide behind a semi-destroyed wall. “Where did they go?!” I hear one of them shout. Slowly they walk towards the rubble, and I hear their footsteps drawing closer, and closer, and closer, until they are directly behind the wall. “Where are they?!” yells the same man. I grab my mouth, to ensure I don’t let out a peep. Several seconds later, another man chimes in, “Ahmed, just forget about it.” Mumbling under his breath the first man reluctantly agrees. The men slowly walk away, and once they turn the corner, I let out a sigh of relief. A few minutes later, we gingerly creep out from the rubble, we turn the corner to find the road painted with blood and bodies. The sight is horrific. After an hour of walking we find a small abandoned house to sleep in for the