|
|
Warning: This story deals with images of war, although there are no real explicit or graphic scenes the emotions conveyed and the details given may very well prove to be too much for some people. Please exercise caution before continuing..
Discalimer: The characters within this story are all the creations of my own over-active imagination. Any resemblance they bare therein to any real people is purely coincidental. Author's Notes: I wrote this, and I'm not quite what brought this to mind the day I began this, but I am glad that I wrote it. Do not think for a moment that I endorse the actions that were taken in the past during this event. I myself find this particular event in history to be most disturbing, I would however like to think that we can all learn from this experience. by Joana Rodriguez a.k.a Lady Dragon Sing me a song little sparrow, rockets are bursting over head and skulls now litter the ground. Trees are in blossom now, delicate cherry blossoms flutter through the air as their sweet fragrance permeates the ozone. I trudge along though this city, splashing through puddles and side stepping debris. My shoes are soaked and my feet are now wet and cold. I look down expecting to see them doused in water and instead find them darkened with blood. A child’s song floats out to me seemingly from one of the collapsing buildings, the exact location of the source can not be seen. “Ring around the roses pocket full of posies”. Sweet the child’s voice is, how the singer could maintain such innocence and youth in this painful era is beyond me. Still I stumble along, viewing the city being bathed in the crimson and violet rays of the setting sun. Up ahead sits an old woman, she gazes around her spot seeing nothing. My advancement is heralded by the sounds of things that crack and crunch beneath my tread. She looks up at me and I gaze back at her into the deep and empty unseeing sockets. Slanted eyes they once were, set within a delicately pale and oval visage. Raven dark strands of hair frame her aged and now weary face. Evidence of what once were dark and piercing almond shaped eyes run down her sunken cheeks, a parody of tears. Her skin is slowly turning yellow with the radiation of the city and the events of this day. Its cancerous this place, and she is not likely to see her grandchildren grow up. Such devastation! Shadows, a person’s closest friend are burned onto the walls around us. She spares me but a moment more before she turns back to the surroundings she can no longer see with her own eyes. What does she see now I wonder? Does she see the dilapidated and demonic place as the shinning city it once was? Does she hear the sound of children in the schoolyard, see the people bustling by on their way to work as small and fuel efficient vehicles pass by? Or do her eyes replay for her the last sights she saw before blindness set in? Does she see the mushroom cloud rising, the waves of destruction as it spread through the city, the utter destruction of the school yard and the helpless children as their carcasses were flung through the air? I struggle to form the words needed to address her but the words stick in my throat, held back by guilt. I can I express my sympathies, my condolences when it was I and my people who brought her this pain? “Ashes, ashes we all fall down.” Author’s notes: Essentially this could be made to fit any tragic event in history, even 9/11. However I feel that the dropping of the atomic bomb on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki by the Americans to be a particularly harsh lesson dealt to humanity. The United States has always tried to portray themselves as the "hero" of the world. Rushing to everyone's aid and fighting the threat of terrorism continuously. This event showed the world that the US were not heroes, and that we could and would resort to childish tactics. Yes I realize Japan attacked us first (Pearl Harbor), but were we justified in the attack of and destruction of civilians? I don’t wish to argue this point with anyone, I just think that we should all remember that tragedies do happen, and we have been the cause of them. This is a humbling thought and ( or so I'd like to think) a wake up call to those who believe attacking and "bombing the hell outta them" is the answer to all conflicts. Please Leave a Review
|
