NYAC | 3min Read
Published on May 14, 2026
A Ray of Hope
A Ray of Hope
Boom! The world shook and everything went dark.
I woke up in a room, which had all the walls painted white and a blue curtain beside my
bed, to the left. Attached to my arm were two machines. One seemed like a pulse reader,
and the other might have been an infusion pump. I immediately realized that I was in the
hospital. I tried to remember what had happened and why I was there but failed. On the
side of my bed, I noticed a red button and pressed it. While moving my arm to press the
button, my entire body screamed in agony, the pain rupturing and echoing through both
bones and muscles alike. Two minutes later, a nurse arrived, looking as though she had
just been to ten funerals.
The nurse said, “Hello Sir, how can I be of assistance? How do you feel?” When she asked
me how I was feeling, I replied “My body aches and there is this painful sensation in my
bones and muscles. Is it possible to get a pain reliever? Also, why am I here?” The nurse
handed me a pain killer and said solemnly, “Sir, there was a bombing in your city. You are
one of the few survivors. Many have died and lots have their fates hanging in the air. You
should read the news.”
I glanced at the papers on the other side of the bed, exactly where the nurse was pointing
and nodded. As the nurse left, I began to leaf through the headlines of the major papers,
‘Delo’, ‘Dnevnik’ and ‘Vecer’. The headline of ‘Delo’ read ‘Bomb attack on Ljubljana causes
mass destruction and panic. All military personnel have been put on high alert.
Government has declared a State of Emergency.’
By the end of the article, I was shocked to see how less the government of some countries,
such as China care about peace and maintaining international relations, despite being in
the United Nations. From the statistics in the newspaper, I wondered what our landscape
looked like now, so I looked out of the window to see the amount of damage and
immediately regretted it.
The buildings on the other side of the window were burnt to the ground. All that remained
was ashes and dust. Through the dust I could see the figures of men, women and children.
Some of them were crying, but most just sat still. They were injured but didn’t try to treat
their injuries. Most of them just sat silently as the sun set over the once great city of
Ljubljana. Their silence conveyed more than any cry of anguish ever could. It was their
shared suffering, and they chose do endure it without complaint.
One begged a passing police officer for help but was unable to say or do anything when
asked for his identity. My stomach twisted with the sickening realization that all of us hadbeen stripped of our identities. The worst part was that we could not go back to our normal
lives after this incident. No matter how hard we would try, physical and mental trauma
would still persist. Moreover, without our identity, we were no one. A billionaire without
proof of identity might as well be a beggar.
Without proof of our identities, we would have lost access to the money in our bank
accounts. Our emergency stashes of money would have been obliterated along with our
houses. Without money, we would not be able to buy any necessities and our whole life
would become a struggle for survival. My heart grieved to see such loss, not only for my
country, but mostly for my fellow humans.
I cling to a ray of hope that someone someday will find this and show the world a better,
non-violent path on which we may continue our journeys.
