I feel sad for him. I'll drop the rest of the story soon
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The Last Toy Car
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Ndoma Attah
30 days agoThere lived a little boy named David in a small village called Okondi. He was only seven years old, but his eyes had already learned how to hold sorrow the way most children hold sunlight — quietly, without questions.
David had cancer,😒 The kind that didn’t go away.
The kind that stole the color from his cheeks and replaced it with pain.😥
He used to run.
He used to laugh so hard it echoed down the street, like bells in a forgotten church.
He loved toy cars — especially the red ones. He said they looked like joy speeding through the air.
But then came the silence
Hospitals. Needles.
Tears his mother cried in bathrooms. Prayers whispered into pillows.😥😢
Faith… that began as fire, and ended as a flickering match.
His mother told him, “God is with us.”
And David believed her — at first.😕
Even when he vomited blood.😥
Even when he couldn’t walk without holding onto the walls.😭
Even when they told her — "prepare."
He held onto his cross, the small wooden one by his bed.
He whispered prayers like bedtime songs.
He asked God not for healing, but for a day without pain.😭Just one.😭 That day never came.
The night before he died, he looked up at his mother and asked,
“Mommy… if God loves me… why does it still hurt?”😒😢 She had no answer.
Only tears.😭
And silence.😒
That night, David slept holding his favorite red toy car.
By morning, he was cold he never woke up.
They buried him😭😭😭
They say the sun never shone the same way on that street again.
And his mother?
She stopped praying.
Not out of anger — but because her voice had forgotten how to speak to heaven.
Some life don’t end with miracles.Some end with toy cars in small coffins……and faith that died quietly beside them.
(If you're anticipating part 2, comment anticipating?❤️