Terrorism is a curse

**Terrorism is a Curse**

By; Bad

The sun had just begun to set over the bustling city of Al-Noor, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. The marketplace was alive with the sounds of laughter, haggling vendors, and children playing near the fountain. For Amina, it was just another evening of picking up groceries before heading home to her family. She hummed softly as she selected fresh bread and spices, her thoughts drifting to her little brother’s birthday the next day.

Then—**the world exploded.**

A deafening blast ripped through the heart of the market. The ground trembled, glass shattered, and screams filled the air. Amina was thrown to the ground, her ears ringing, her vision blurred by smoke and dust. When she finally managed to sit up, her hands were covered in blood—not her own, but that of the elderly man lying beside her, his lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

Chaos unfolded around her. People ran in every direction, some crying, others shouting for help. The scent of burning flesh and rubble filled her nostrils, making her gag. She stumbled forward, her legs weak, her heart pounding. "Help! Someone, please!" a woman shrieked, clutching the limp body of a child.

Amina’s stomach twisted. **This was terrorism—a curse that spared no one.**

### **The Aftermath of Hatred**

In the days that followed, the city mourned. The attack had claimed 47 lives—men, women, and children who had done nothing wrong except exist in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hospitals overflowed with the wounded. Funerals were held daily. The once-vibrant marketplace was now a graveyard of charred stalls and broken dreams.

Amina couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the blood, the terror, the faces of those who would never go home again. Her little brother, who had once laughed without a care, now woke up screaming from nightmares. Her mother, a schoolteacher, sat silently by the window, her eyes hollow.

The terrorists had released a statement: *"This is only the beginning. We strike in the name of justice."*

**Justice?** Amina thought bitterly. **What justice is there in murdering the innocent?**

### **The Curse That Spreads Like Poison**

Terrorism is not just violence—it is a disease that infects societies. It doesn’t discriminate between religions, races, or borders. A bombing in one country creates fear in another. A shooting at a school leaves parents across the world clutching their children tighter.

Governments spend billions on security, yet the threat never truly disappears. Soldiers and civilians alike live in constant dread of the next attack. Families are torn apart. Children grow up in fear, taught to hide rather than to dream.

But the worst part? **The cycle never ends.**

One act of terror leads to revenge, which leads to more violence. Hatred breeds hatred. The terrorists claim they fight for a cause, but what cause justifies the slaughter of a child? What ideology is worth the tears of a mother burying her son?

### **Breaking the Curse**

Amina stood at a candlelight vigil a week later, surrounded by hundreds of others holding flickering flames. The names of the victims were read aloud, each one a life stolen too soon. She clenched her fists, not in anger, but in determination.

**"We cannot let fear win,"** an elderly man said, his voice trembling but strong. **"If we do, they’ve already succeeded."**

Amina realized then that terrorism thrives on division. It wants people to turn on each other, to blame, to hate. But the only way to break the curse is through unity.

Communities must stand together—not as Muslims, Christians, Hindus, or atheists—but as **human beings** who refuse to let violence define them. Education must replace extremism. Compassion must overcome vengeance.

### **A Call to Action**

Terrorism is a curse, but curses can be broken. It starts with us—**refusing to be silent, refusing to hate, refusing to let the terrorists dictate how we live.**

Amina wiped her tears and looked at the faces around her. They were broken, yes, but not defeated. And in that moment, she made a promise—to herself, to her brother, to the souls lost in the market that day.

**She would not let the curse win.**

And neither should we.