Samara and her family were walking on an arid and inhospitable slope, while walking with her head down, she raised her gaze, which left in evidence the desperation and anguish she had back then. In the distance, she saw a bridge. Her sister Delila looked her with the corner of her eye and then told her:

"Samara, at this point, we'll need to cross the river."

"Delila, there has to be some other alternative, I won’t let the children take this risk, the water stream might turn so violent at any moment and you know I'm not an expert swimmer."

"Just understand that this is the only way, the bridge must be guarded by a military control. If we want to get to the Turkish border while still having our heads, then you better prepare yourself to cross the river, and please, hold Amira so strongly, I entrust you her," Delila emphasized. Samara saw in her eyes that same hint of obstinacy, frustration and disquietude that would force every mother to put at risk the lives of her own children if that even guaranteed just a little space in another world far enough from the war environment she had always known since those years and years of death and bloodbaths.

"Calm down Samara, you can hold on to my arms, and I assure you I will not let even the strongest water stream rip you off from my arms," Gamal pronounced with a protective voice and an expression on his face that greatly comforted her, Samara certainly thought that his eyes of a light green color could green up even the most barren and aridest desert.

"Then there’s nothing left to say, let’s put all our hopes in Allah," Delila finished the discussion.

Delila took the little Diya, who was 3 years old at that time, and held him in her arms as if he were a newborn child, and then placed him in her shoulders. Her husband Zahid took Fatima, the eldest of the three children of the marriage; Fatima pounced on her father's shoulders and took him hard to endure the whole journey. Samara, being confident in Gamal's words, decided to close her eyes and take a breath of air to throw herself into the river. She took the little Amira, barely 5 years old, then gave her a tender kiss on the forehead and gave her to Gamal, who held her on his shoulders.

"Release my arm if necessary, but never let my niece die, promise me that, Gamal."

Gamal was thoughtful, but he knew that Samara was a difficult woman, she was unbowed, not even her very father could stop her when she decided to reject a marriage with an important sheikh of Qatar just to escape from her house with a man of low social status like him.

"You're stubborn as a mule," Gamal quoted. "Your mother would say that for sure."

"Unfortunately my mother is no longer here to continue reprimanding me," Samara retorted bluntly, however, her eyes became a little teary, but she quickly reminded herself what are the reasons why she had embarked on that journey.

Samara recovered from the nostalgia and then approached the river, the water was freezing cold and the breeze did not help her to keep warm, she decided to accelerate with long strides while she took her first steps through the turbulent waters and the smooth rocks that were scattered throughout the Euphrates, with her right hand she clung to Gamal's shoulders so tightly that it seemed as if her entire existence depended on it, Samara had already heard many stories about those who dared to cross the Euphrates at late night hours, the only thing she knew at that moment was that she didn’t want to be the protagonist of those kinds of stories, "my story is just beginning," Samara told herself.

The more they advanced in the river, the more turbulent the waters became. Samara trembled with cold and was afraid to get lost, however her gaze just couldn’t stop seeing Delila, Gamal, Zahid and the children. It was as if she feared more for their lives than for herself.

They reached the middle point of the river, where the depth could even palpated, they swam with the water up to their necks until the moment when they could not even prevent the water running down their jaws.

Gamal stumbled over a huge rock with a smooth surface, and almost to the immediacy, he sank along with Amira. When Samara noticed it, she broke down in tears, and Delila between sobs, seeing the decisive look of Samara, decided to break the silence that reigned in the place.

"Samara, stop!"

"Your daughter and my husband just sunk before your eyes, and do you dare to ask me to stop?"

"Don’t be so obtuse! We must continue or we will die along with them!”

"Delila, for Allah’s sake! Don’t ask me that, I beg you! I just can’t do this anymore! I cannot continue if I don’t have them!"

"It's fine if you want to die right here, you know that the shadows of war have made me pragmatic enough to not stop for anything or anyone. If I've already decided to let my daughter here, sunken and drowned just under my feet, then believe me when I say that less I will stop for you. This is my last advice, you have to decide if you want to fight for a new life there or if you would prefer to stay here and die just like them."

Samara saw Delila and Zahid advancing on the river without looking back not even for a single moment, a pressing emptiness ran through her body, she knew there was nothing else to do, at that point, the lives of Gamal and Amira were probably added to the perpetual cemetery that lay in the depths of the river. She armed herself with resilience and exhorted herself to continue on her way to the shore.

Arriving on the other side of the river, Samara found it difficult to move due to her soaked clothes. Delila and Zahid didn’t seem to be affected by the slowdowns, because they rushed to the road, the children couldn’t keep their pace, but Samara drained her clothes and accompanied them to the road that led to the border.

While walking on the dark highway, the lights of an old truck dazzled them.

"Prepare your knives, we don’t know who’ll be behind that vehicle," Zahid expressed with a raspy and strong voice while hiding his two children behind his back, both Fatima and Diya were shaking with fear and the cold that seemed to freeze them to the marrow. Samara and Delila were expectant while holding with malice the knives they were hiding in a small sheath on their right thighs.

Suddenly a tall, European-looking man stepped out of the vehicle, approached them slowly until Zahid approached him. The blond man looked at him and the silence prevailed for a few more seconds until Zahid decided to take the initiative.

"Tell me, what do you want?"

"I was wondering if you were in the way to the border and needed some help to get through..."

"Please, speak clearly"

"Well, I'm heading to Turkey, so I could give you all a ride, but I guess you all should hide in that pile of straw I have behind of my vehicle."

"How do I know you don’t work for the Russians or the Yankees and that you don’t even intend to take us to the slaughterhouse?"

"I think that a simple freelance photographer will not have those kinds of contacts..."

Zahid looked him up and down as if trying to figure out if his character was convincing enough to dare to risk his family's skin. After a few seconds, he decided that there was nothing else but to give him his vote of confidence.

"Delila, Samara, Fatima and Diya. Sit in the straw behind the man's truck, hopefully, we will mislead the border agents."

"Wait. You have the typical features of the Syrians, I have photographed them thousands of times and I recognize them. But if these two girls take off her burqas, they could pass as my wife and daughter, since they are blondes like me," The photographer observed them with the dim light of his flashlight.

"It sounds convincing. Fatima and Samara, take off your burqas and get in the front seat next to the gentleman," Zahid ordered them.

Fatima and Samara climbed into the vehicle with the photographer, while Delila, Zahid and Diya hid in the straw.

On the long journey to the border, the photographer asked Fatima and Samara to put on jackets and a scarf to keep them warm, and then he presented himself gently to Fatima and Samara.

"There are still a few kilometers left to get to the border, so it would be good if we formally introduced ourselves. My name is Armin, what are your names? You can tell me whatever you want to say, I'm sure you can make my driver's job easier," He ventured between laughs.

"I am Fatima, I am 11 years old and my dream is to save lives. My mother promised me that we will arrive in Germany in order to become a great a physician.”

"It sounds interesting, big dreams that might boost every step you take. And what about you? What can you tell me? Why are you so quiet? "Armin asked Samara with a smile on his face.

"I guess my name is the most irrelevant thing right now. Call me as you want, probably, I won’t live much more if we get to cross the border."

"I think I'm not the one to judge your way of thinking, even more from what you've surely experienced in the war, but I urge you to be more optimistic, don’t forget your dreams, I guess you may still have many dreams."

"Her name is Samara, she is 22 years old and she has always wanted to be a great writer. Samara, you should write one of your great stories," Fatima retorted.

"Oh, so you're a good writer, aren’t you?"

"Please, don’t pay attention to my niece, believe me, I'm not that good. It's just a whim that I had, and like all absurd whims, I must forget it."

"I think I know the ideal place where you can regain the confidence in yourself that you need so much."

"I guess that site is not exactly located in Syria, isn't it?"

"You're right, it's a place that everyone can access, no matter where you are."

Armin took a smartphone out of his pocket and handed it to Samara. Samara a little surprised, she asked:

"Why are you giving me this?"

"So that you can write about all the worlds that your head has imagined, in Steemit, the site that you can see on my phone, an aspiring writer like you, can express herself freely, and even earn money while doing something that you really like."

"I guess I can try to write something, but maybe it would be about a very delicate and sad subject..."

"Express all your feelings, we the community of Steemit appreciate the sincerity and good writing above all"

Samara set out to create an account and to organize her ideas in a notebook. Without realizing it, the hours had already passed and her first post was almost ready, but she still had to choose the title, she honestly could not decide it yet.

Arriving at the border control, Armin asked Samara and Fatima to adjust their belts, put on glasses and hats to go unnoticed, and to stay quiet, any mistake could ruin his alibi.

Some men approached his old truck and asked for the passport of them all, Armin gives them his passport, the one of the wife and that of his 13-year-old daughter. Fortunately, the officers believed their alibi but insisted that they should check the back of the truck. The military observed the straw while they argued in a somewhat aggressive way. Diya was so scared, so he just couldn't help it, he moved and the straw resounded, the officers quickly started the fire and shot Delila, Diya and Zahid. When Armin heard the gunshots, he accelerated his truck and fled with the disconsolate women in his vehicle. Despite the shots received by the vehicle, Armin was able to cross the Syrian-Turkish border, and thus arrived at Turkey's territory.

Samara between sobs, decided that her short story should be called "For Every Little Thing We Have Lost" and it was a tribute to all her loved ones who had died at the claws of the bloody war. Samara gave the first draft of her story to Armin when they settled down in a modest hotel in Urfa, that night she could not sleep well, Samara waited for her approval all night.

In the middle of the dawning, Armin entered the room of Samara, with shyness, he expressed how captivated he felt for her story.

"Your story is really exceptional, it has captivated me like no other story I've read in Steemit. With such an incredible talent, you should be at this year's Steemfest, which will be held in Krakow. And I think I know how you will get your ticket to the most important event of the Steemian community this year."

"I do not know what to say, I feel flattered, but at the same time, I can’t tear this sadness from my heart. I do not know if it’s right to feel excited at a moment like this. All my life I dreamed of being a writer and that the world may be able to read my stories, but everything has come in the darkest time of my life, I don’t even know how I will take care of Fatima. I do not know why I’m telling you all these things when all you have done is help me…"

"Don’t worry, I can’t even imagine how you’re feeling right now. Don’t post this story yet, trust me, your life could change sooner than later," Armin slowly walked out from her room, and Samara wrapped herself between the sheets to vent her sadness and left the tears stream down her face.

The next morning, Fatima entered her Aunt Samara's room, with a smile mixed with sadness, she informed her that Armin was waiting for them at the hotel reception to take them for breakfast in a restaurant.

When arriving at the restaurant, of Italian food like the ancestry of Armin, he told Samara the news.

"I have talked with the influential Steemian @anomadsoul and I have sent him an excerpt from your story. Like me, he could not stop saying how incredible, devastating and exciting and authentic your story was. So he told me he wants to know your case closely at this year's Steemfest in Krakow. So you have to confirm if you really will attend it..."

"Of course I would love to be able to go there, but as you already know, Fatima is my responsibility now and I want to work very hard to give her a better future..."

"If you attend the Steemfest and tell your story, and give your voice and your magnificent writing talent a greater international projection, then I am sure that you can build a better future for Fatima. And don’t worry, I'll make sure Fatima will travel with us, I think she also has many stories to tell, isn’t that true Fatima?"

"You're right, Armin. Aunt Samara, I want to say that I would like to seek justice for the death of my parents, my brothers and my grandparents, I think the world has to know what we are going through, what truly happens to us Syrians," Fatima replied maturely between her innocence and short age.

"Well, I think this is already a fact, then Poland will be our new destination," Samara expressed full of joy.