It 
was Christmas Eve. I prayed for a miracle, maybe, just maybe my brother will come home for Christmas. He did! I thought that my life is as happy as it can ever be. The Angel on my Christmas tree seemed to smile, the candles lit up the whole big room so bright, prisms of the chandelier cast shining stars on the ceiling, this is my Christmas! I had only one Christmas wish, and it was fulfilled. My brother came home. I closed my eyes and prayed that this moment will last for ever and ever. I ran as fast as I could across the large room, it seemed to take for ever to reach him. My Christmas dress was specially made for that night and was identical to the one the Angel had, white with little stars on it. I put my arms around him, heard his heartbeat. All of a sudden I could not breathe, I felt his blood running down my white dress, he had been wounded. No danger had kept my brother away from coming home for Christmas, it must have been a track filled with pain, I wished I could have taken his pain. He had come home to say goodbye to his childhood home and his family. The cruel happenings of the war brutalized our Christmas again, my life collapsed under the harrowing moment that followed. Some armed men took my brother away. I tried to run after him, maybe I can save him! He stopped for a moment at the door, waved me goodbye and disappeared in the darkness. A chilling sound of a shot……my happy life crushed, I could not breathe, I could not ever walk away from the brutality, hatred and unimaginable loss. “Dear brother, where are you?” As young as I was at that time, I felt that that moment stole my happy childhood and changed my life for ever.
