I don't know how many days passed after the crash.
Time turned into heat, pain, and hunger. The forest stretched endlessly, whispering things I
didn't want to hear. Seeing people I wanted to see. The forests had started playing tricks with
me, so I thought.
I moved by instinct, dragging myself forward. My arm throbbed. My leg was swelling. I spoke to
my brother like he was beside me, because the silence was worse. The dream never died, to
reach the city because my little sisters were waiting for us, well for me, they didn't know our
brother was gone.
"They're waiting for us," I said.
"We can't let them down."
But my steps grew slower. My vision blurred. At night, I slept beneath trees and dreamed of our
home. Of laughter. Of Mama stirring porridge we never had.
Meanwhile, in the city…
Our sisters were still waiting.
The hospital, after realizing no one was coming, had turned them away. Just two little girls in
strange clothes with no names, no family.
They slept outside the hospital gate for three nights. The older one begged for food; the
younger didn't speak at all, her heath had detoriated. On the fourth night, she closed her eyes
and never opened them again. The cough had won the battle, she lost, and well we lost again.
Back in the forest, I had stopped walking.
I lay beneath a tree, skin cold, and mouth dry.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I tried."
I thought of my brother's hand in mine.
I thought of our sisters laughing with hope for a better life when we told them stories about the
city. About the food they will eat, the clothes they will wear, and friends they will have.
I thought of the promise.
Then I let go.
Years Later…
She is fifteen now, the last of us.
The older sister.
Someone found her that night outside the hospital. A woman with kind eyes and a quiet voice.
She took her in, gave her food, a name, a school uniform.
She grew up carrying the memory of three voices.
Now she writes letters to the sky, letters that can never be returned.
She signs them:
To my brothers,
To my baby sister,
I miss you every day. Your laughter, your warmth, your light.
Though you are gone, your love still lives within me, guiding my steps.
The pain of knowing i once had siblings is deep, but so is the joy of having loved you.
Until we meet again, I carry you always in my heart.
Love, Chikondi.