Page 54 - Thorn In The Heart

Thorn In The Heart

Few times, Nguyen ran around the refugee camps to watch
the people. They were living on the knolls, sleeping beside the
large longan foot trees, and built the banana tents in the
bamboo's bush. They ate anything that found on the field with a
little help from the local people. Few dozens' children and adults
had wounded, infected on their bodies, heads, legs, and arms
with blood dripping out on the cloth-bandages without medical
treatment. They cry loudly for help under the tent-banana leaves
in the late afternoon, or under the rain that was leaking in
through the cracks of the roofs. However, nobody could think of
other more than himself in the life and death situations.
Sometimes their lives became more hardship under the broken
tent-cloths and banana leaf-greens by a long day raining.

Nguyen remembered that he had a stand on the front of a
broken tent of a refugee family when it was raining. He watched
an infant crying by the cold weather and no milk because his
mother was shot and died on the war zone. A gentleman holds
his son on his dirty arms with the tearful running down on his
face while two other hungry children stood behind him.

In suddenly, a he looked at Nguyen and asked:

“What is your name?”

Nguyen looked at him and started on an infant.

“My name is Nguyen.”

“How old are you?”

“I am 9 years old. “

A gentleman looked at his old son. In a low and sorrow
voice, he said.

“He was the same age as you.”

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