Getting to the church, Sunny was dumbstruck. He was expecting to meet members of the church praying or listening to the pastor, but instead, what he saw made him shiver. There were at least 200 persons in the church hall, with all the chairs removed to create more space.
The scene before him was one of utter devastation. These persons were either gravely injured, some missing a leg or an arm, some severely sick, and others hungry. Sunny's eyes widened as he took in the sheer scale of the suffering.
He turned to his mom, who had brought him here, a look of shock and confusion on his face. "Is this where you go, mom?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
His mom nodded, a sad smile on her face. "Yes, son," she replied. "The women of this town decided to let the church be a refugee camp, with the agreement of the pastor."
Sunny's eyes widened in surprise. He had no idea that his mom was involved in something like this. He looked around the church hall again, this time with newfound understanding.
He saw his mom's friends, women from the town, moving around, tending to the wounded, and distributing food. He saw the pastor, a kind-faced old man, praying with a group of people.
Sunny felt a surge of pride and admiration for his mom. He had always known that she was a kind and compassionate person, but he had no idea that she was involved in something like this.
Then his mom continued, her voice filled with sadness and compassion. "These are the people who have been caught in the crossfire of the war," she said, gesturing to the crowd of wounded and displaced individuals. "And I'm sad that your uncle will soon take me out of this city," she added wistfully.
Sunny nodded in agreement, it's for her safety he said to himself, but taking a look at this people he couldn't help but shake his head
His mom's eyes seemed to cloud over, lost in thought. "Most of the children here have lost their parents in the war," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Sunny's heart went out to the children, and he felt a surge of anger and frustration at the senseless violence that had caused so much suffering.
Just then, someone called out from across the room. "Mrs. Wilson, please come with us." Sunny's mom turned to him, a look of apology on her face. "I have to go," she said. "Seems like we have a new patient."
She quickly stood up, smoothing out her clothes and hurrying off to attend to the new patient. Sunny watched her go, feeling a sense of pride and admiration for his mom's selflessness and dedication to helping others.
As he looked around the church hall, Sunny felt a sense of overwhelm wash over him. There were so many people in need, and he didn't know how his mom and the other volunteers were able to cope with the sheer scale of the suffering.
Here is the continuation:
Then Sunny walked forward with a heavy step, his feet feeling like lead weights. He couldn't bear to look the people in their faces, couldn't bear to see the suffering and pain etched on their features. He felt a sense of overwhelm wash over him, a sense of helplessness in the face of such tragedy.
But as he walked, he heard a faint voice calling out to him. "Please help," someone said, their voice weak but urgent. Sunny turned, his face darkening as he took in the sight of the person who had spoken.
It was a man, probably in his 50's, with a gaunt face and sunken eyes. Sunny's eyes scanned the man's body, and his heart sank as he realized that the man was missing both legs. The man was laying on the floor, his stumps wrapped in dirty bandages.
Sunny felt a surge of compassion and pity for the man. He squatted down beside him, trying to compose himself. "How did this happen?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The man looked up at him, his eyes filled with a deep sadness. "I was caught in a bombing raid," he said, his voice cracking. "I was trying to escape, but...but I didn't make it. My legs were blown off."
Sunny felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to the man's story. He couldn't imagine the pain and suffering the man had endured. He reached out and took the man's hand, trying to offer what little comfort he could.
Sunny's eyes locked onto the man's, filled with a deep sense of empathy. "Do you have a wife and kids?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
The man's face darkened even more, his eyes clouding over with a deep sadness. He gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. "They all died," he said, his voice cracking. "My wife, my kids... all of them."
The man's words were like a punch to the gut, leaving Sunny breathless. He felt a wave of sorrow wash over him, and he reached out to put a hand on the man's shoulder.
The man burst into tears, his body shaking with sobs. Sunny looked at him sympathetically, trying to find words of solace. "You should be happy you're alive," he said, trying to sound convincing.
But the man just shook his head, his eyes streaming with tears. "I wish I died instead of them," he said, his voice barely audible. "Please, let this war end."
The man's words were like a prayer, a desperate plea to a world that seemed to have lost all sense of humanity. Sunny felt a lump form in his throat as he listened to the man's cries, feeling a deep sense of helplessness.
He sat there in silence, holding the man's hand, trying to offer what little comfort he could. The man's tears slowly subsided, replaced by a deep, crushing sadness that seemed to weigh him down.