“What’s for dinner, mother?”, little Joan asked with a weary look on her face.

She was eight years old. With the same old shabby dress that she wore for days, dirty
hands, sticky skin and messed up hair tied into a small ponytail, she made herself resemble a giant rag doll. She was waiting eagerly for her answer, with a ray of hope on her face.

“Honey, I don’t know what to say to you. How many times should I tell you that we will be getting the same meal every day?”, she told her with a scent of love and affection in her words. “I know you want a decent, tasty meal like how it was when we were at our home…when…before he…before your father…”, the words struggled to come out.

She felt tears in her eyes, but she managed to keep it together, at least for the sake of her
daughter.

“Have your dinner fast and go to sleep, girl.” She said.

With an unsatisfied look on her face, she stomped away to their dirty tent. As the
colour of the sky began fading away from golden orange to a shade of black, a small girl was planning her greatest dare ever.

‘I can’t leave my mother without getting her a delicious plate of food, can I?’, thoughts ran wild in Joan’s mind.

She remembered that day. How could she ever forget it? The day she realized the harsh truth. One day, the doctors who came for their usual rounds were in a heated discussion. The attempt of the doctors to withhold their precious information from the girl had failed miserably. Joan had heard everything in shock as she eavesdropped on the whole conversation from outside. Her mother would be with her only for a few more days.

“Two days. That’s all she has. Actually, it’s just pure luck she survived this far”, she had heard one of them sayıng.

Since then, she had made it her mission to make sure that her mother had something
delicious before she left this world forever. She looked at her mother, sleeping peacefully. After a few more days, she wouldn’t wake up. There wouldn’t be any more morning kisses on her forehead, the only source of comfort she had each day in a world full of heat and pain. No more stories that drifted her to the world of sleep. No more hugs that gave her warmth during the cold nights. She had made her decision.

She carefully put away her mother’s loving arms which were hugged tightly around her.
She crept out of the bed and started tiptoeing towards the tent’s threshold. In the distance, though not far away, she saw a cluster of other tents, with a massive tent in the centre. It belonged to the higher officials that controlled the camp. She knew there would be something left after the grand party the soldiers had the previous night. While they were wasting away such delicious food, she and her mother were struggling to eat the stale bread they were given. She sighed.

“Not today.” She muttered to herself. She hoped for the best and entered the tent.

It was pitch black; she felt her way inside. She knew exactly what she was looking for—something her mother could feast upon, something delicious. This would be her last meal before she bid farewell to this cruel world. Gradually, she became adjusted to the darkness. She could make out shapes now.

She moved towards a basket filled with what seemed like fruits, but couldn’t quite figure out which fruit it was. She put her hands inside the basket, took out one fruit, and smelled it. Engrossed in the pleasant aroma of the fruit, she lost herself in the thoughts of giving them to her mother. She would eat them with a contented smile on her face. She would move on from this world only after eating a delicious meal brought to her by her dear daughter. She pictured her mother’s twinkling eyes, who, with a surprised look on her face as she sees the basket filled with food, slowly breaks into the most beautiful smile she had ever seen in her life. She was lost in the train of thoughts and didn’t notice the neatly stacked ceramic plates lying nearby. Before she knew it, she had bumped into those. With a deafening noise, the plates came crashing down onto the floor.

“Oops” was all she could think of at that point. She was unaware of the grave situation she was in. The noise of the crash was enough to wake up the sleeping soldiers. In no time, they woke up in the bat of an eye, lit their lanterns and made their way into the place from where the sound came from. One by one, the tents began to be lit. And finally, Joan’s tent was lit too.

Her mother woke up frantically and, to her horror, realized that her daughter was missing. The first thought that crossed her mind was her incapability to protect her own daughter. She cursed herself as she grabbed her lantern and ran towards the source of the noise. A crowd had already been formed there. At that point, a deafening sound of a gunshot was heard. Had her most terrible nightmare come true? She feared the worst as she walked. It took a more rapid pace after a few seconds. She was running now. She ran past the soldiers who were standing guard against the door of the tent. Even the armed, muscled strong men couldn’t prevent the weeping mother from witnessing the terrible sight.

“Ma’am, you don’t want to see…the…”, One soldier warned her, his voice weakening with each word. Another one, a bit strongwilled than the first, confessed to her. “Ma’am, when we heard the sound coming from the kitchen, we thought it must be some stray dogs…never in our wildest dreams did we think…that…a child…”, he found that his strength was slowly diminishing too.

The voice of the soldiers drowned in her river of anxiety. As she made her way into the now well-lit kitchen, she saw a sight no mother could bear to see, let alone think of. All her years of love and care were now crushed into nothingness. She froze. She was still like a statue. She wanted to cry but her voice was gone. She fell on her knees as she sat on the floor stained with blood. In front of her was her daughter, covered in blood. Near her were some scattered strawberries and a fallen basket. Between her sobs, the strawberries stared at her.

Were they so deeply red, or was it her daughter’s blood?