/lit/ - Literature

Any critique would be really appreciated.

A building that once held the only preschool in Asmayi had been leveled completely, and all that stood were pillars of now serrated concrete with charcoal-grey smoke oozing out of the structure's every oriface. What were once brightly coloured orange bricks were now all uniformly grey, with an uncanny evenness that made it seem like the entire one story bulding -- or what was left of it -- had just recieved a fresh layer of textured paint. The doorway and the supporting walls were obliderated in the blast, revealing the dust covered innards of the school; from the street opposite from the school one could clearly see inside several classrooms. The stillness lingered uncomfortably in the air for a few moments, until one of the dust covered corners began to squirm and writhe inside the building. Slow, gurgling moans soon evolved into resonant cries of agony. "Darawem! Darawem! [Stop! Stop!]" the frail voice cried over and over -- it was a bright, young voice that strained and wheezed with each breath. The dusty corner folded itself back to reveal the bright red face of a petite boy, around eight, who moments ago had his body hurled forward, the blast pinning him between several sections of mud brick and pise. His cries became less and less resonant as his energy left him, and his body collapsed-- defeated -- to the rubble below him. His skull had been shattered open when it hit the corner in front of him and fragmented pieces of crimson stained bone and hair lay hopelessly in front of him. Osman felt the the boys trembling flesh beneath his fingers as he held him up, frozen in a mixture of fear and shock. The coal black smoke choked him and he coughed, he gripped tightly to the boys body desperately trying to think -- and then he saw the massive cavity in the boy's head and felt the boy's heart struggle to pump blood while watching the boy's exposed brain throb around the small chunk of concrete solidly set inside of it.