Ammar Habib - The Heart of Aleppo - A Story of the Syrian Civil War

SETTING:

Aleppo, Syria in the summer of 2012

PROTAGONIST:

Zaid Kadir – a 13-year-old boy living in Aleppo

MAIN CHARACTERS:

Fatima – Zaid’s neighbor; a 13-year-old girl

Salman – Fatima’s brother & Zaid’s best friend; a 15-year-old boy

ZAID’S FAMILY:

Nabeel – Zaid’s older brother by 12 years; an officer in the Syrian Army

Abbi – name Zaid calls his father by

Ummi – name Zaid calls his mother by

Aisha – Zaid’s sister-in-law; Nabeel’s wife

SUPPORTING CHARACTERS:

Jari – a former soldier of the Syrian Army

Faisal – a 17-year-old boy

Amaan – Faisal’s brother, a 16-year-old boy

Ethan – a humanitarian worker trapped in Aleppo

Thank you for picking up a copy of The Heart of Aleppo. Before the story begins, I would like to briefly explain why this novel was written. I personally believe that the Syrian Civil War is one of this generation’s greatest tragedies. With the way it is proceeding, it’ll be remembered by future generations in the same manner that we remember the Rwandan genocide and the Bosnian War of the 1990s.

The motivation for writing this story was simple: I wished to bring more global attention to this crisis. Although the characters are fictitious, this novel accurately depicts the events that transpired in Aleppo during the summer of 2012. I hope that reading this will lead readers to have a greater understanding of the plight those in Syria face, as well as those in other war-torn regions. If this work helps garner more attention for those in Syria, then I will have considered this project a success.

In an over-politicized world, my wish is for this work to humanize those we call “refugees”. This book is not about the politics of the Syrian Civil War or any other conflict. Its aim is not to convince readers to support any faction or political party. Instead, this story is about the unbreakable spirit of humanity. It is about how humanity often shows its true strength during the darkest times.

The sky rains fire down onto Aleppo.

Gunfire surrounds me. Bullets whiz through the air, striking anything in their path. Running through the street, I hear bombs falling from the heavens. They grow louder with every passing second.

Then it starts again. Deafening explosions rock the city. Men and women topple over as the bombs and missiles erupt. Buildings go up in smoke. Chunks of debris are blown into the air before spilling down on the city, crushing anything in their path. I feel the heat of the blasts crash against my skin. I witness walls and entire buildings ferociously collapse, kicking up enough dust and smoke to rival a sandstorm.

A building’s wall creaks as I run under its shadow. It breaks off in the next instant. Avoiding the falling debris as I leap over rubble, I witness the city that I call home—the city I grew up in—again turn to ashes. But I can do nothing. Like the rest of them, I can do nothing but flee. Some flee to shelter. Others flee away from the battle. However, there is no escape from this. My mind continues to scream one thing through all the madness: run! Run and don’t stop! Run until your feet fall out from under you!

The Judgment Day that the Imam always spoke of is upon us. It is the end.

I hear nothing but the ringing of the earsplitting destruction all around, sense nothing but the insurmountable heat. Black ash covers me. I wipe my eyes of the dust, desperate to clear my sight. My vision is tunneled ahead as I try to escape the bombs. My feet are numb, but I don’t stop. My heart pounds against my chest like a mad drummer, threatening to burst out at any moment. But I don’t slow down. I can’t.

It’s chaos. Madness. The rockets are plummeting onto the street at random. Homes and shops go up in a blinding blaze. The explosions are everywhere: in front, behind, and on either side. There’s just chaos as the bombs strike the city. Blackness shrouds the heavens. I can’t see ten feet ahead of me. There’s so much thick, toxic smog. I w—

I’m suddenly sent lurching forward before crashing on my side. My head is spinning. The ringing is louder than ever before. I lay there a moment longer, unable to muster any strength. What just happened?

My thoughts still in disarray, I stagger to my feet. I almost topple over immediately, but I maintain my balance. The ground is shaky, and I can barely keep it under my feet. Was that a bomb? It almost hit me. A few more feet to the left and I would have been caught in the eruption. Instead, a truck was set ablaze. The fire is scorching. That could have been me in it.

A man dashes right by me. Then a boy who’s nearly my age. Neither one gives me a second glance.

Keep running, Zaid. Don’t stop!

The explosions aren’t slowing down. Neither is the gunfire. Continuing to retreat from the bullets, I shake my head in an effort to diminish the disarray. The endless barrage almost drowns out the screams. Some are of the people—my fellow civilians—being engulfed by the explosions and debris. I hear their thunderous cries before they are cut short. Others are of those like me, those fleeing their homes in terror. People run right over one another.

The gunfire grows closer with every second. A bullet shoots right by me. Then another. Followed by a third. Don’t slow down, Zaid. Keep running! The smoke is so thick now that I can barely even see where I’m stepping. However, it only makes me run faster.

But the firefight is moving too quickly. It’s catching up. I can’t outrun it. Vehicles are riddled with bullets before their engines catch fire. The bombs continue rocking the street, leveling anything or anyone they hit. Shockwaves and heat crash against me from every side. Black smoke keeps rising up to the heavens.

My foot hits something, causing me to stumble. I hardly pay any attention to what it is: a corpse, a woman. Catching my footing, I keep dashing for my very life. I can’t slow down. Not even two steps later, I run right over another body. A third is to my right, but I don’t even look at it.

A rocket slams into a high-rise building directly in front of me. The scorching explosion cuts through the smoke. I react on instinct. Shielding my face from the blast and the dust, I take cover behind a broken-down car. There’s another figure hiding on all fours. It’s a man. He’s not even twenty, hardly seven years older than me. His head is pressed against the concrete and his hands cover the back of his skull. He’s cowering, too scared to even move.

The roar of the blast dies off. By the time I look back up, the building’s wall breaks off and falls towards the road. I leap back to my feet. But then I stop. Hearing a cry above the destruction, I whip my head around and see a woman. Her foot is trapped under a chunk of debris.

I don’t think—I can’t think. Not now. Sprinting to her in a frantic dash, I crouch down beside her. The debris has her left foot and calf pinned. Her gaze locks with mine, eyes consumed by a fearful terror. It’s the same terror I’ve now seen too many times. They’re begging for any help.

What can I do? Will she even be able to walk after this? Don’t think about that now, Zaid.