Inspiration Monday challenge by be kind rewrite:
Life in a Box
It sounded like a jet engine was starting up in my room. As I rubbed my eyes and tried to gain consciousness the rumblings were joined by a sudden jolt which threw me from my bed. The jolting continued as the room began to roll and shake all at the same time. I didn’t know whether to get up and run or crawl under the bed and hide. I decided upon the later. As all my possessions were thrown from their rightful places I could hear explosions outside the simple guesthouse in which I had called home for just under a week. I shut my eyes tight and even as a lifelong sceptic I began to pray. The modest bed danced on the concrete floor threatening to expose me. Then the walls began to give way followed by the ceiling. I was being buried alive. I thought of my dad pleading with me to not to leave home and my mother weeping as she waved goodbye at the airport. I wanted to be with them more than anything at that moment.
I was terrified. It all seemed to last an eternity but in reality it was only about half a minute. Then as suddenly as it started it finished. I could hear the chaos going on outside. In the blackness I felt around me to find a way out. There was nothing but debris, I had survived unharmed but I was boxed in. I called out for help but nobody heard me.
I lay there listening to the sounds outside. I had only just left the clinic where I had agreed to do my nursing exchange and had laid down for a nap. I brought five years of sexual health training with me but was still emotionally unprepared for the scenes I had witnessed in my short time in Haiti. The clinic was located just outside Port-au-Prince. I was meant to be there for three months.
I was sure at least two days had passed. My stomach rumbled and I knew I had never really experienced thirst before. I kept shouting for help but I knew there was never any coming. This was going to be my grave.
I shifted my position under the bed and continued trying to move some of the rubble from in front of me, I was losing strength and this was a laborious task. Every aftershock threatened my progress. I was piling the debris next to me. I had discovered the bookshelf had made a lean-to shape near the bed so it was my goal to try to get out and under that because it would give me more space. As I pulled at a chunk of cement I was relieved when I saw my rucksack made visible from the sliver of light that was shining down from the collapsed ceiling. I pushed my body within reach and snatched it. I was grateful to find a pack of granola bars and bottle of water were still inside. I wanted to drink the water all in one go but limited myself to a few sips.
Just when I was about to give up, they came for me, it took them five days but they came for me all the same. I could hear them outside moving the debris. I shouted with what strength I had left just so they knew I was there. As daylight stung my eyes I could see the devastation all around. I was overwhelmed with sadness. The people I had come to love in such a short period of time had lost so much.