Exactly 7 minutes past midnight I came across a dead dog with a four pointed pitch fork stuck right through him, into the grass, which made it stand up straight. The dog was laying down on its right side right in front of Mrs Shears backyard. I touched the dog’s muzzle, still warm and fuzzy. I lifted the pitchfork off his body and blood poured from the four holes, so deep in his body that I could see all the way through. I picked up the dog and stared at it for a while. Mrs Shears suddenly burst out the backdoor looking at me with a look I couldn’t understand. She took a few steps forward before screaming while running towards Wellington. I didn’t like her screaming. The dog rolled out of my hands hitting the ground with a thud. I curled up kneeling against the wet and cold grass with my forehead slowly reaching for my knees. I cover my ears hoping that Mrs Shears would stop screaming. Then in the distance just faintly I hear police sirens. I really like the police because of their uniforms and numbers. I lifted my head off the ground and saw a policeman walking towards me. 

I stood up and looked at his flash badge and gadgets all around him making him look professional. He asked me a lot of questions and I tried to respond to him but he just kept cutting me off which made me feel uncomfortable. I rolled back into my safe place but the policeman took me by the arm and shoving me back to my feet. I did not like what he did. So I hit him. He got angry which I could see on his face and told me I was under arrest. That made me feel better because I see policemen say that on TV. He stomped to his car and threw me in. He then said something to his partner which I could not understand because it was too muffled. The door swung open and the policeman stepped into the car and let out a huge breath through his nose. 

We both then drove off to the police station passing lots of things on the side of the road. He made a strong left turn parking at the back of the police station. Taking me out he shoved me into the waiting room where more policemen told me to hand over my things. I gave 3 rat pellets, a block, a paper clip and my Swiss army knife. They took all my things which they said were contraband. And put me into a cell which had a floating bed, a thin mattress, a cold metal toilet, a rough and a dense floor with water dripping from the ceiling. There was a small window right above all of that. I waited a long time before I heard my father come to the police station looking for me.

The warm and welcoming light of the sun hits my back while a cool breeze glides past me. I’m out with my dad and little sister heading to a bookstore to return a couple of books; I had borrowed them to study human anatomy. Something gave me a weird feeling, like a chill down my spine. I didn’t want to pay attention to it and walked to the front desk. 

Suddenly a rumbling sensation hit my feet while the books I carried were covering my eyesight. Another growl came from the earth getting louder with every moment. I could start to smell asphalt through the seeps of the window. Dust had started to fall like snow right from the ceiling.

A loud and sudden crash frightened me as I was handing over my book to the store owner. The ground started to rumble and shake violently, bookshelves crumbled and fell all around me. A bookshelf then fell trapping me under it. My left arm trapped with something piercing my hand. Then everything went silent. The bookshelf crushing my back with my ribs piercing my lungs. My body ached. With one free hand I tried my best to push the rubble off me. It wouldn’t budge. Faint, blurry sirens in the distance caught my attention. I yelled for help. Was anyone there? My dad, sister, rescuers. No response. A firefighter entered the building but I could not scream. My lungs were trapped, not able to breathe. My ears were ringing, still dizzy and confused. 

What are my responsibilities as a Global Citizen?

The Three Sieves tells about the importance of thinking before you speak. We need to ask ourselves is it Kind, True, Necessary and if its not don’t Speak.

If I met Jesus in a park and he asked me … “Are you living by my Beatitudes?” I would say …

I walked across the horrors that my own kind has done to these innocent people with destruction and pain all around me. Flames reached the sky, seeming like it would burn for eternity. Numbness soon takes over my body, somehow feeling like nothing. The screams of children who yearn for their mother ring in my ears. Realization hit me,  just a few steps away was the lifeless body of someone I cared about. 

I wanted to cry. It felt hopeless not knowing if Aunt Miriam was dead too. Step by step I thought about Mutti and Papa and what would I do without Aunt Miriam. Buildings crashed into each other shaking the ground. Flames started to roar and expand even more. Pain, crying, horror all happening at once. I feel like I’m in hell. The sky burns a blood red. Destruction and death everywhere.

The city is quickly filled with smoke making it harder to see. My lungs start to burn. My tongue itches from the gritty ash. Slowly a shadow starts walking up to me calling my name. The face starts to become more recognizable. It is Aunt Miriam. I call out too, hoping she can see me. I wave my arms as hard as I can hoping she notices me.