The Jewish Nation of Mongols

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Galloping mad horses, so many exhausted people, the heavy razor-sharp dust, the bone penetrating heat, the humid, and the terrifying earsplitting screams. The screams and cries are everywhere coming from all directions. Screams of the wounded and dying horses. Cries of the people that may still be alive. Some are still fighting the shadows. Is that a shadow of the foe of the death? Death… Tears of blood. The last breath. The last sigh. What could be more frightening than people screaming in frustration, exhaustion, pain, submitting to fate? Dying people. The screaming horses… Dying horses. The silent scream in the wild eyes that filled with terror of animals in pain. Do they feel pain as we do? More? Less? The loud cry of dying animals again and again, and again. They are all around, searching for the way out. They are looking for survival, but only finding the slow torturous death. That’s the most terrifying scream of them all. The last scream. It is full of pain, fear, fatality, and finality. Yes, the finality. Was there anything else left? Was there tomorrow or the next week?

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