Strength Within

Written by A.Z. Alfred

Continued from page 1

She froze, waiting for me to answer her question. But I just stared at her because I couldn’t find a word. Finally I simply said, “Just thinking.”

We both chuckled.

She placed some magazines between us, took one and buried her face in it.

I stared into space, wandering intorepparttar little boy world again. My eyes caughtrepparttar 136179 magazines sitting beside me. And there it was,repparttar 136180 edition of TIME that brought me here inrepparttar 136181 first place. I took it up. She looked at me puzzled.

“ Can I read this? Been looking for it all day”

“Sure. It’s an old edition, you can keep it”

I thanked her, took it and walked away.

Back home, I flipped throughrepparttar 136182 ads, politics and other pages that has nothing to do with my new friend. I got torepparttar 136183 page withrepparttar 136184 caption, “Defenseless Target” and belowrepparttar 136185 caption it reads, “close to 350 die, half of them children, afterrepparttar 136186 Chechen rebels take an entire school hostage.” And I realised that I have more than just a little boy to meet.

Despiterepparttar 136187 fact that my friends have increased in number, my heart was captivated by a nine years old boy who was amongrepparttar 136188 other twelve hundred hostages who celebratedrepparttar 136189 first day of school. And were kept hostage for three days. He was among those who were stripped to their panties. He was among those who were forced to either thirst to death dehydrated or drink their urines if they needed to live. He was amongrepparttar 136190 little children who should be playing video game in front of some TV but were left with no choice than to stare at bombs, which designedrepparttar 136191 school’s gymnasium like some festoon of flowers. He was among those whose liferepparttar 136192 guerrillas have chosen to sacrifice to achieve their stupid desire. To make it worse for him, his mother was also held hostage.

Elena Kasumova, a teacher inrepparttar 136193 school, was strong fromrepparttar 136194 first day whenrepparttar 136195 school was taken hostage. Butrepparttar 136196 third day, her hope was running out and that was whenrepparttar 136197 unthinkable happened. She got more than a hope from her nine years old son, Timur Kasumova.

When Elena had chosen to give up, believing herself, her son, Timur and many others were going to thirst to death. Her son crawled close to her, massaged her feet, kissed her and told her stories about allrepparttar 136198 water and juice they would drink when they would be free fromrepparttar 136199 hands ofrepparttar 136200 guerrillas. He comforted her, renewing her strength to hang on.

And now five months later, as I sit here writing this inspiring true life story, I know Elena and her son, Timur, are somewhere in Russian (if they are still there) drinking allrepparttar 136201 water and juice he had told her about while trying to forget that painful experience.

Though you have read this story but what I’m trying to say to you is more than justrepparttar 136202 lines. You need know one thing. When tough time (challenges) comes your way and you have exhausted all your strength, there is always a little more strength within, which you need to break through. Timur Kasumova did that inrepparttar 136203 face of a hopeless situation some months ago. He hung on torepparttar 136204 strength within.

Coming soon, “Haiku with love” An inspiring poetry collection by A.Z. Alfred. To be published by Author House, USA.

A.Z. Alfred is a writer and a motivational speaker whose greatest pleasure is observing the world through a window while listening to inspirational songs.

Move On !

Written by A.Z. Alfred

Continued from page 1

I went close, stepped intorepparttar cobweb-clothed hall. Thick dust, thick enough to spark an asthmatic crisis rose fromrepparttar 136132 ground as I walk on it like it was some continental rug. Everything is in perfect shape. (The carved wooden school crest sitting atrepparttar 136133 upper part ofrepparttar 136134 front wall,repparttar 136135 polished platform, which has aged with dust from being abandoned. Every thing seemed perfect but with age.

Inrepparttar 136136 abandoned hall, right in its center, I closed my eyes and it all came back. I smelled it like it was yesterday. It was fresh asrepparttar 136137 dew on grass beforerepparttar 136138 morning sun. The memories flooded back as I heardrepparttar 136139 students chorusedrepparttar 136140 hymns in unison fromrepparttar 136141 songs of praise pocket book, I could hearrepparttar 136142 school chaplain: preaching a motivational sermon torepparttar 136143 boys. I heardrepparttar 136144 school song as it rose likerepparttar 136145 crashing ofrepparttar 136146 waves against a ship. I opened my eyes; felt some drops sank into my cotton blue shirt, chilling my body. I dried my tears and walked out.

I had to leaverepparttar 136147 past behind me. I wasn’t going to stand there like that war veteran polishing a medal of honor he received some forty years ago. I would never stand one more minute there like that man who thinks, if he were not bankrupt fifteen years ago, he would be rich now. I wasn’t going to let tears down my cheeks like that lady who lost her job as a secretary because she wasn’t computer literate and all she could do was complain, “I could type six million words in one minute.” I have to let go ofrepparttar 136148 past and move on.

I’m not just talking about me, that war veteran or that secretary (that lady rather, she lost her job.) I’m talking to you who sit there in self-pity because you just lost your coolest job. Don’t sit there bemoaning your fate, explaining to your friends what went wrong. You don’t have to tell your sisters or brothers how bad it is and expect someone to come to hug you and say, “sorry, everything will be alright.” Come on wake up. Whatever happened seconds ago is already history. The last minute before you start reading this is history.

Pick up yourself, dry your tears like I did, raise your head and shoulders and do what? MOVE ON!

There is more inrepparttar 136149 future. Plunge into it. And you will realise that all past glory and failures are nothing but a page in your history

A.Z. Alfred is a writer and a motivational speaker whose greatest pleasure is observing the world through a window while listening to inspirational songs. Coming soon, “Haiku with love” An inspiring poetry collection by A.Z. Alfred. To be published by Author House, USA. for his works and free inspirational helps, goto: http// mailto:

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