Gaza Herald – For several desperate minutes, Naeem (14), Feryal (12), Salma (10), and Amira (6), the children of Firas Al-Masri, stood behind the barred window of their apartment, screaming and waving for help, desperately trying to let those outside know they were still alive.
But the fire that erupted inside their home after an Israeli loitering drone struck their parents’ bedroom in the early hours of Tuesday, July 21, 2026, spread rapidly through the apartment near Al-Samer Junction in Gaza City, cutting off every possible escape route.
Forced to Jump from the Window
The children’s uncle, Mohammad Al-Masri, who lived with his family in the western section of the first-floor apartment, woke to the sound of the explosion and found flames closing in around them as well.
He says he used six buckets of water, all the family had, in a desperate attempt to reach his brother’s children, separated from him by only a wall and a single door.
The water was no match for the rapidly spreading fire, fueled by the apartment’s furniture. His repeated attempts to break down the door leading to the children’s room also failed.
As flames engulfed the room where his wife, children, and mother were trapped, they had only one option left: jump through the window, after the blast had blown open the metal security bars.
Mohammad threw his children and wife out of the window, leaving them with bruises that he says “were nothing compared to the horror of the massacre.” He then lowered his elderly mother using a ladder.
Three Hours to Extinguish the Fire
Mohammad says Civil Defense crews who arrived at the scene were unable to extinguish the blaze for nearly three hours, blaming the delay on the severe shortage of firefighting equipment caused by Israel’s restrictions on bringing fire engines and rescue equipment into Gaza.
As the flames reached the trapped children, their cries gradually faded until they fell silent.
About 90 minutes after the fire began, rescue teams were finally able to recover their bodies.
Identifying Burned Bodies
At Al-Shifa Hospital’s morgue, Mohammad stood before four completely charred bodies, alongside the bodies of his brother Firas and his wife Salsabeel, whose remains had been partially shielded from the flames by the rubble that buried them.
He says the most painful moment was identifying his nieces and nephews.
“It was one of the hardest moments of my life, but I had to identify them. I recognized each one by the size of their body.”
Sitting at the family’s mourning tent, Mohammad says the children were still alive after the strike, though he initially could not hear their voices despite being separated from them by only a wall and a door.
“I tried to break the door, but there was a huge fire behind it. We brought six buckets of water, but they did nothing. As the flames reached us, I realized the window bars had opened from the blast, giving us a chance to jump from the first floor. I threw my children, my wife, and my mother out. It was our only way to survive.”
“Five Minutes Separated Us from the Same Fate”
Mohammad says his own family survived by only a matter of minutes.
“If we had stayed another five minutes, we would have burned to death just like my brother’s family.”
He recalls that the fire quickly grew beyond anyone’s ability to control it. Despite the arrival of two Civil Defense vehicles and municipal water tankers, firefighters struggled to contain the inferno.
“When I finally forced the door open, an even bigger wall of fire rushed toward us. We started suffocating from the flames. The fire became so intense that even Civil Defense crews had to fight it from nearly five meters away.”
Their Final Hours
Only hours before the attack, the family had spent an ordinary day together.
Naeem had just finished reviewing three sections of the Quran after memorizing it in full a year and a half earlier. He dreamed of becoming an engineer like his father.
Feryal had been doing what she loved most, painting. Her uncle says traces of her paints remained scattered beside her after the fire.
“She loved drawing. She attended several art courses and always painted houses and characters that reflected life.”
Salma spent much of her time creating bracelets and necklaces from colorful beads, often giving them as gifts to her friends.
“She used to make bead crafts with my daughter. They were simply enjoying their childhood.”
Amira, the youngest of the four, had graduated from kindergarten just one week earlier. She had been eagerly waiting to begin first grade alongside her sisters when the new school year started in early August.
Brothers Like Twins
Firas Al-Masri, 33, graduated in engineering from the Islamic University of Gaza and was remembered by his family as a deeply faithful man known for his wisdom and kindness.
His brother Mohammad says they were born in the same year, Firas on January 5, 1993, and Mohammad on December 23, 1993, and grew up like twins.
“He was wise, deeply faithful, and always lifted our spirits. Throughout the genocide, he kept encouraging us despite everything we were living through.”
A Family That Death Visited Twice
This was not the first tragedy to strike Al-Masri family.
On August 30, 2025, an Israeli strike targeted the second floor of the family home, where Mohammad lived. His first wife was critically wounded and died two months later from her injuries. Firas also lost his one-year-old daughter, Yumna, who was killed in the same attack.
Mohammad says his brother spent the past year mourning his little daughter, who take her last breath in his arms.
He ends with a painful question:
How would Firas have endured knowing that his four remaining children burned alive, crying out for help, while he and his wife lay killed beneath the rubble in the next room, in a scene that captures the devastating reality faced by families across Gaza?
