The Day It All Changed

At least a week had gone by now since the day fire rained from the skies. Aneska was curled up in a corner of what had once been her home, now reduced to ashes, concrete dust and debris.
Aneska did not know why explosions had rocked the small town of Dastanya, just thirty kilometres west of Moscow. While it had worked, her old radio spoke of an attack by the Chinese, and of declarations of a third world war. It had advised her of the dangers of radiation too. But at the tender age of nine, all that Aneska knew was that her reddened skin itched and her eyes hurt and watered up all the time.
The little girl woke up with a feeble cry, clutching the tattered remains of her teddy bear. She wiped her eyes and felt her tummy rumble. It was cold and her body was all achey. In the ruins, all she had managed to find had been a bottle of stale vodka and a basket of frostbitten fruit and vegetables.
Biting into the hard, crunchy food, Aneska looked up into the steel-gray skies. It hadn't stopped raining ash since the day of the explosions.
Cold, hungry and missing her parents, she looked into the dark skies and wondered if anyone out there was coming to save her.
Hours passed. Aneska didn't go out anymore; not since the day she saw the foreign soldiers go through the ruined city she once called home.
Instead she waited. Listening to her own troubled breath. She coughed a bit, staining her gloves with crimson phlegm.
When night fell - and Aneska knew it was night only because it got darker and colder - she closed her eyes and fell asleep, dreaming of warmth; of home; of her mother and father. It was a good dream.
A dream that little Aneska would not wake up from.

Transcript and Story by Luís Alexandre R. Bernardino