The little boy shooting the ball

The little boy shooting the ball

At four o 'clock in the afternoon, the slanting sunlight shone on the court, casting the shadow of the basketball hoop on the ground, like a twisted circle.

Ajie stood outside the three-point line, tapped the ball twice, jumped up and shot.

The ball flew out, over the cracked concrete ground, over the edge of the crater that crossed from the center of the court, hit the backboard and bounced into the hoop.

"Bang - swish."

The ball hit the ground and bounced towards the pile of rocks by the side of the court.

Ajie ran over to pick up the ball. He stepped over a twisted piece of iron sheet - that had once been the roof of someone's house - and then went around a blackened beam, and finally at one Find that ball under a concrete board. When he bent down, he saw a hand sticking out from the gap of the concrete slab.

It was a child's hand, very small, grayish-white, with the fingers slightly curled up, as if holding something while sleeping.

Ajie took a glance, picked up the ball and ran back to the court.

He continued shooting.

This is the only half of the basketball court left in this city. The other half was overturned by a shell. Now it is a three-meter-deep crater with rainwater accumulated at the bottom, On the water surface were floating broken pieces of wood and a shoe whose color was indistinguishable. The backboard is crooked, the iron frame is covered with white marks left by shrapnel, and the net is long gone.

Now, only two tattered strips of cloth remain, swaying in the wind.

The stadium was surrounded by ruins. This place used to be a street, with vegetable sellers, car repairmen, hairdressers and fried dough sticks. It was bustling from morning till night. now There was nothing left, only broken bricks, rotten tiles, twisted steel bars and cars that had been burned to skeletons.

Occasionally, a few gunshots would ring out in the distance, muffled, as if someone were patting the quilt from a distant place.

Ajie threw another one. I didn't get in. The ball hit the rim and bounced back. He caught it and shot again. I'm in.

He took out a piece of chalk from his pocket and drew a line on the concrete pier of the basket frame.

There are already many lines up there, densely packed, divided into two groups: the left side is the standard characters, and the right side is also the standard characters. There are more standard characters on the left and those on the right.

Less.

On the left is the ball he made. On the right is something else.

Ajie is twelve years old this year. He doesn't know how much longer he can live, so he comes to shoot basketball every day.

At the 57th hour, a person came.

It was a man, dressed in a dirty camouflage uniform and carrying a gun on his shoulder. He walked over from the other end of the ruins, treading on broken bricks and tiles, making a clicking sound.

He walked to the edge of the court, stopped and watched Ajie shoot.

Ajie ignored him and continued to vote.

The man watched for a while, took out a cigarette from his pocket, lit it and took a puff.

"Kid," he said, "What ball are you playing here alone?"

Ajie threw one and it went in.

"I'm counting." " He said.

"Count what number?" "

Ajie didn't reply. He cast another one. I didn't get in.

The man was smoking a cigarette, sizing up the ruins. His gaze swept over the crater, over the charred beam, over the piece that was pressing on a child's hand the cement board. He said nothing but threw the cigarette butt on the ground and crushed it out with his foot.

Do you know what place this is? He asked.

"Understood." " Ajie said, "It used to be my home."

The man was stunned for a moment.

"Before?"

Ajie pointed at the ruins and said, "Over there, beside the third utility pole, it used to be my home."There is a pomegranate tree at the door. My mother planted it."

The man followed his finger and looked over. There was nothing there, only a pile of broken bricks and a crooked electric pole.

Where are your family members?

Ajie threw one. I didn't get in.

My dad is gone. He said, "Last year." It was taken in the north of the city."

Where's your mother?

The day the shell fell, she was cooking in the room. Ajie said, "It's right there."

He pointed at the crater.

The man was silent for a while.

Then where do you live?

"Over there at the church." Ajie said, "There was a priest who took in children." Give one meal a day."

The man nodded and didn't ask any more. He stood still, watching Ajie shoot the ball. The sun set a little further west, and its light turned orange-red, shining on the ruins.

It shone on that crooked basket stand and on that boy.

"You play ball well." " The man said.

"My dad taught it." " Ajie said, "He used to be a PE teacher."

He threw one and it went in. He ran under the basket stand and drew another line with chalk.

"Was it thrown in on the left?" " The man asked.

"Um." "

"Where's the right side?"

Ajie didn't reply.

The man stared at the correct characters for a while and suddenly understood something.

He coughed, turned around and looked at the ruins in the distance. The setting sun dyed everything red, and those broken walls and ruins seemed to have been washed by blood.

"Child," he said, "I have a son too."

Ajie didn't say anything.

"About your age." " The man said, "Over there."

He pointed in one direction with his chin. That was the other side of the front line, the place occupied by another group of people.

I made a phone call once. The man said, "Three months ago." He said he missed me.

Ajie threw one. I didn't get in.

"Why don't you bring him here?" " He asked.

The man didn't answer.

After a while, he took out another cigarette from his pocket, lit it and took a hard drag.

"I've killed someone." " He said, "The people over there." His mother is from over there.

Ajie held the ball and looked at him.

His mother won't let him come. The man said, "I won't go either." "If I go, they'll kill me." "

He exhaled a puff of smoke, which spread out in the setting sun and turned grayish blue.

So you just play your ball here. He said, "It's fine too."

He threw the cigarette butt on the ground, crushed it with his foot and turned to leave.

"Uncle."

The man stopped.

Will you come again tomorrow? Ajie asked.

The man turned to look at him.

What are you here for?

Ajie didn't reply. He just looked at him, with no expression in his eyes, as if asking casually, yet as if not.

The man stood there. The setting sun shone on his face, revealing the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and a scar that slanted from his brow bone to his chin.

"Perhaps." He said.

Then he left. His footsteps vanished beyond the ruins, with the butt of his gun hitting the broken bricks, making a dull clattering sound.

Ajie continued to shoot.

The sun set and it got dark. A few more gunshots rang out in the distance, this time a little closer. Ajie walked back with the ball in his arms. When he reached the side of that concrete slab,He paused for a moment.

The child's hand is still there. Grayish-white, with curled fingers.

Ajie squatted down and looked at that hand. He wondered if this child had played ball before, too. Would you also like shooting basketball? Will you also count your own shots How many are there?

He doesn't know.

He stood up and walked back. When we reached the church, it was already completely dark. The priest was waiting for him at the door. He was a thin old man with a grizzled beard.

I came back late today. The priest said.

"Play ball." " Ajie said.

The priest nodded and didn't ask any more. He led Ajie in and gave him a bowl of thin porridge and half a piece of hard bread. Ajie was sitting on a bench eating, surrounded by other children.

There were more than ten children, big and small, all absorbed in their meals, with no one speaking.

After they finished eating, the priest led them in prayer. Ajie recited along, his lips moving but no sound coming out.

After the prayer, the children each found a place to sleep. Ajie lay on his tattered blanket, staring at the dark dome above his head. The roof of the church is good There are several holes through which you can see the stars outside.

He couldn't sleep.

He was thinking of the man in camouflage, of the son he had mentioned, and of the expression on that man's face when he asked, "Will you come again tomorrow?

He said, "Perhaps."

But Ajie knew he wouldn't come.

Most of the people in this area who have said "maybe" will not come again.

The next day, Ajie went to the court again.

He stopped when he reached the concrete slab.

The child's hand is missing.

The cement board is still there, but the hand is gone. That place had been dug up. The soil was fresh, and beside it was a small shovel, all rusty.

Ajie stood there, looking at the empty pit. The pit is not deep, only about half a meter, and there's nothing in it.

He stood for a long time.

Then he heard footsteps.

He turned around and saw the man in camouflage standing at the edge of the court. He had no gun on his shoulder and was carrying a net bag in his hand, inside which was a new basketBall.

"I buried that child." " The man said, "I can't dig. It's too deep." Just bury that hand."

Ajie looked at him.

He has no idea where his family members are. The man said, "Maybe not either." But it's still better than just leaving it there.

He put the net bag on the ground.

Here's the ball for you. He said, "It's time to change your broken ball."

Ajie looked down at the new basketball. It's orange and very new. There are still labels on the leather surface that haven't been completely removed.

Why did you come? He asked.

The man didn't answer. He stood there, looking at the crater, at the ruins, and at the crooked basket frame.

My son also likes playing ball games. He said, "I taught him before." "Three-step layup, always moving." "

Ajie didn't say anything.

"Later, there was no chance." " The man said, "There's no chance again."

He took a deep breath, as if he had made some decision.

"I want to play here for a while." " He said, "OK?"

Ajie looked at him and nodded.

The man walked over and took out the new basketball from the net bag. He stood outside the three-point line, slapped twice, jumped up and shot.

The ball flew out, drew an arc, hit the backboard and bounced into the hoop.

"Bang - swish."

The man was stunned for a moment.

Ajie was also stunned for a moment.

"You made it." " Ajie said.

The man looked at his own hand as if he couldn't believe it.

"I haven't invested for over ten years." " He said, "I thought I had forgotten."

He walked over to pick up the ball, stood on the free-throw line and shot another one. I didn't get in.

Reinvest. I'm in.

Reinvest. I'm in.

He shot over a dozen and made about half of them. Ajie was watching from the side, watching him shoot the ball in the setting sun, watching the expression on his face.

That expression was very strange. It seems like laughing, yet also like crying.

When it was getting dark, the man stopped. He held the ball and stood by the edge of the court, looking into the distance. Gunshots rang out again in the direction of the battle line, this time very close.

One could hear the shrill roar of bullets streaking through the air.

"I have to go." " He said.

He handed the ball to Ajie.

"Leave this to you." He said, "Play well."

Ajie took the ball and held it in his arms.

"Uncle."

The man turned around.

Will you come again tomorrow?

The man stood there. The setting sun illuminated half of his face, while the other half was shrouded in shadow. He looked at Ajie, at the boy holding a new basketball.

Looking at this ruin where he had just made a shot.

He opened his mouth, wanting to say "Maybe".

But he didn't say it.

"Come on." He said.

Then he left.

Ajie stood still, watching his figure disappear into the ruins. The gunshot drew nearer and nearer, and a burnt smell began to waft in the night wind.

He looked down at the new basketball in his arms. It's orange, very smooth, and feels a bit warm from the sun when touched.

He put the old ball on the ground and walked to the free-throw line with the new one.

Lift the ball.

The knees are slightly bent.

Act.

The ball flew out, drew an arc, hit the backboard and bounced into the hoop.

"Bang - swish."

Ajie ran to the basket stand and took out the piece of chalk from his pocket. He looked at the rows of upright characters on the left and then at the rows on the right.

On the left is the ball he made.

On the right is something else.

He drew another line on the right with chalk.

Then he stood still, looking at those correct characters. It was getting dark and he couldn't see clearly, but he knew they were there.

An explosion rang out in the distance. It was so close that the ground beneath my feet was shaking. The firelight illuminated half the sky for a moment, highlighting the outline of the ruins and that A tilted basket stand, reflecting the boy standing on the free-throw line.

Ajie raised his head and looked in that direction.

Over there is the front line.

There are a lot of people over there, a lot of guns and a lot of shells.

He withdrew his gaze and looked at the new basketball in his hand.

"Dad," he said softly, "Someone came to play ball with me today."

No one answered him.

The wind blew from the ruins, shaking the two tattered strips of cloth on the basket ring. There was another explosion in the distance, a flash of fire, and then everything fell into darkness.

Ajie held the ball and turned to walk back.

When he reached that concrete slab, he paused for a moment. That pit is still there, empty, with the small shovel thrown beside it.

He stood for a while and then continued walking forward.

Behind, the ruins lay quietly in the darkness. That crooked basket stand still stands there, like a person who has been standing for a very long time.

Another burst of gunshots rang out in the distance.

Ajie didn't turn back..