In this forest right now, I'm having an ominous feeling about what is ahead of us. The stench of rotting wood and the sounds of millions of termites consuming it is making me feel revolted.
Just like how moonlight was penatrating the darkness, hope was penatrating fear. Each step we took, I knew I was closer to freedom. Just as we were about to reach the border walls, the vexed border guards saw us. This was what my ominous feeling about all this time.
We were terrified while running. Fear was crawling back. A dense wave of fear flashed into me. If the war had not started, if the conflict had not taken my father, if we had not migrated from our country, then we would have been a happy family.
This was neither a happy nor exciting experience.
(The End)
