Voice of the little one!

It's a few minutes to 12am, and it's the celebration of the international day of the girl-child. I couldn't possibly let this day waste away without making my little mark on it.

Yes, not only because I am a girl, but because I see myself as an ambassador for every girl out there, as well as every other girl ambassador for me too.

It's not a fight that started today, neither was it the call during the summit a few years ago...

No, this has been the voice echoed over the hills and mountains, over the deserts and glaciers, over the forests and valleys.

Cries of the young one, her father's little treasure.

The Voice of the little girl screamed with joy as she played with her peers.

The voice of the smiling adolescent as she, innocently, whimpers along the streets, proudly hawking her oranges.

Oh, yes! I do speak of the proud courage on the face of that thirteen-ish student in the classroom, listening with all attentiveness, as she hopes for a future, a better one.

How can I forget the strong will of that twenty-something young lady, finding herself in a world that has already told her to keep her space? Even as she rumbles through the strives and hardships that we call life, she never gives up.

She may be dragged. She may be mocked.

But, no matter how often she's been told to go back to the kitchen, to perform the only duties she was made to do, to warm the beds of the other gender, she will not break!

No, she will not give in to their definition of her.

After all, she alone can define who she is.

This doesn't mean that she's not the caring daughter she's raised to be, the loving wife she's grown to be, the tough mother she had to be, and the woman society needs her to be.

Oh, yes, she can be all that, and still have a life, can't she?

Just like your sons and men, she could also juggle a career with her responsibilities, couldn't she?

Just like our fatherland, she hopes to give back her part to her homeland.

As God, most high had created Adam, so also he did make Eve.

He gave unto men and sons talents and wisdom, but he never neglected her.

She is also a part of this world. And she is much more than you see her.

If given the chance, encouragement, and support, then you will see that behind that cowering girl is a mighty soldier of the tomorrow.

Face a girl child today, no matter your gender, and tell her "You are special. The creator made you beautiful, and you can be whatever you choose to be. God is your strength."

Tied Up Alone

The sharp pang in my head snapped me back from the darkness I was surrounded by. However, the echoes of the cries and screams heightened the pain that ran continuously in my ears. Trying to open my head, I was almost blindfolded by the bright rays of the sunlight.

I attempted to do this again and this time around I was able to see white patches in the room I was in.

"She is awake!"

A small voice of a man a code so close to me. On parting my eyelids, the white ceiling above me greeted me, and this confirmed my present situation. I was not in my room and apparently, I wasn't in any familiar environment. 

Realizing this, I sprung my face to the side of the bed and caught a glance of two enormous men standing at the front of what seemed to be a door. Seeing that I was awake, the man stopped speaking and worked towards me.

Frightened, I tried to jump off the bed, but restraints on my arms and legs prevented me from doing so. All I could do was stare at the men, surprisingly, without the ability to yell at them.

"Oh, hello there, sleeping beauty." One of the men, a black-skinned, buffed thug with a red bandana tied on his forehead, and dangling from his hand, a long rifle.

Did I mention that I was scared? Well now, I'm pretty much sure I was petrified. 

Never have I seen a weapon as long as what the man held, and coupling it up with the men in control of it.

Struggling to break free from my sudden dumbness, I tore my lips with a slight gasp.

Getting my voice back, I did what any responsible human will do in my situation, or rather the opposite.

I shouted. "Help."

Somehow, I knew that my actions were stupid, but this was confirmed only after the men rounded into a burst of mocking laughter.

Calming down, I begged. 

"Please let me go. You have the wrong person. I'm just a poor, stupid girl. I don't stick my nose in businesses that don't concern me. Trust me, I don't have a good memory, so I will forget your faces as soon as I'm let out. I promise not to mention a word to the police about this."

The men exchanged a look, before laughing again.

And, I began to cry. Whenever I was faced with a situation that was greater than me, I always blabbered my way out of it. If that doesn't work, then I'll cry and get away.

But, now, neither seemed to work.

Not ready to give up, I pushed myself up on the bed, and after many attempts, I was able to hoist myself to my button, sitting up.

The men had ignored me and returned to the doorway. It was then that I took a proper look at the room I was held in. It was an enormous room, almost thrice my bedroom back at home.

The room was painted glossy white. Farthest from me was a couple of wardrobes and a door which I mentally took note of figuring out if escape would be possible through it.

Trailing further, I noticed a huge screen TV hanging on the wall adjacent to the bed, and on looking around, I saw that I was on a king-sized royal bed.

What shocked me the most was that I was actually restrained by nothing but a fancy lace rope.

God. Is this real?

Without thinking twice, I attempted to wriggle out of the ones holding my hands, but it could have been easier if my fingers were able to work through the knots.

I glanced up and noticed that the men were looking at me, but they didn't flinch.

Then, the other one, a much shorter fatter man, turned the knob on the door close to them and opened the door.

I strained my eyes to get a view of what was beyond the door, but I couldn't see a thing. The men walked out and when it was obvious that I will be the only one in the room, I screamed at them.

"Where are you going! I said you should let me go!"

But, they ignored me and I could hear their laughs, but this time accompanied by other voices.

My eyes widened. 

How many men were out there? Am I the only one held here? Why am I held here? Where is here?

The last I could remember was being carted away from our college with my other schoolmates and classmates. All I know was that everyone was crying and shouting at the abductors to let us go, but I remained calm as I watched the jeep that followed the truck they held us in.

Through the car's window, I squinted to get a clearer view of the man seated beside the driver.

On a closer glance, I immediately recognized him, and at that moment, something hit my face and I blacked out.

However, I didn't need to wonder anymore. The door came open, and in walked a majestic figure that turned out to be non-other than him.

Smiling, he said, "Good to see you again, Tabitha."

And I froze.

I knew them!

"Everything occurs for a reason. Good or not, it happens anyway."

These are called wise words, but who knows wisdom? Who dares calls himself wise? If life snatches away your beloved, would you be okay with that one-liner?

Anyway, we were bred with those words and taught to trust and believe in an entity we've never seen, not once.

I find it almost crazy that the world holds different meanings to our existence, yet everyone agrees that one being sat down, and suddenly made the world.

I mean, I would trust the guys with the scientific proofs, rather than the men robbed with attires bounded on books of beliefs that were written centuries before they even existed. 

As a child, I was told alongside many children who sat around my grandmother that life was like a book, and we are characters in it. Each stroke of the pen represented a second of life itself. 

I could recall how she'd laugh and say "Everything that is meant to be, will be."

Thus, I almost did not make an attempt that day when they raided our lives. After all, it started like every other day. We are already accustomed to the frequent fears and thrills of the actions of the bandits, or as my dad would say "the boys with the guns".

Just a few weeks ago, our neighbor and his family were collected from their home in broad daylight but as usual, nobody could do anything. 

Sunday comes as we mass ourselves to pray for their return, even though we knew deep down that this was impossible.

Yet, even though we claimed to be strong and faithful believers, we knew that one day it would be us next.

And, that's exactly what happened.

As the loud shouts of the gunshots drummed the premises of our school, we according to our natural instincts began to run Helter Skelter, unknowingly causing a ruckus that earned us no escape as we tripped over each other, and still ended up in their arms.

They carried us in their large trucks, both male and female, no matter how age or class. So, our school was an average private institute, but I must say that the wealthy breathe the same air as us in the school. I, for one, knew that even though my family couldn't boast of frequent trips to Dubai, we sure lived a pretty comfy life.

Thus, we hoped that we wouldn't last a day in their hands - their big, huge hands.

It was at that moment that I knew that I was so wrong. These aren't the arms that took Mariam last year, they aren't the ones that scooped away our neighbors, and they certainly aren't the boys with the guns.

No.

These were men.

They wore no mask. Carried not guns.

They were the guns.

But, the shocker of it all, I knew them.

________Author's Note: Hey, peeps. I'm Alexa here. So, I had this crazy idea to let my fingers type each day without an actual plot for a story. I have no idea what will happen, but I am sure that as I keep writing, bits and bits of the story will fall into place.

Are you ready to go on this journey with me? If yes, log in every day to read my one-day shorts, and at the end of this - if I ever find the end, we'll come up with a name for the story together.

Deal?