The Last Day | Teen Ink

The Last Day

August 23, 2015
By Narrelle GOLD, West Palm Beach, Florida
Narrelle GOLD, West Palm Beach, Florida
15 articles 1 photo 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
Do I not destroy my enemies when I make them my friends?-Abraham Lincoln
For to be free is not merely to cast off one's chains, but to live in a way that enhances the lives of others. -Nelson Mandela
Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong. -Gandhi


I watch the planes zoom by overhead. Around me, people run for cover, taking shelter under desks, in doorways, beneath cars. But I stay where I am. Nothing, no hiding place, no words of prayer, will make a difference. Not when the h-bomb falls.


The planes are specks on the horizon now, but that was only the first wave, the ones sent to scout the skies and give the all clear. More, I know, are on their way. Amongst the second wave, there will be a plane that carries the bomb, with power great and terrible, in its belly. It will drop the bomb over the land, not stopping to see the damage it has left behind, the great scar on the earth’s surface where men once stood. The third wave of planes will survey the land, making sure all went as planned, and send a signal back to their government, with only two words: mission accomplished.


I feel a hand slide down my back, a head lean against my body. Tears stream down my sister’s cheeks as she joins my silent vigil, seeking my warmth and comfort. Her eyes follow mine, fixing on the bright blue expanse, eternal and magnificent, that sits above us. Today, not a cloud dots the sky. A perfect day.


A faint buzzing rings through the air, growing louder with each passing moment. Renewed sobs, with rising hysteria, ring through the air as the second wave approaches. I feel my sister’s body shaking as I wrap my arm around her, holding her tight. She buries her face in my shirt, shutting her eyes tight, letting out a cry halfway between a scream and a whimper.


The first plane zips by, a whoosh of sound and sight. The second follows, just as swiftly. The third, too, flies by at neck-breaking speed, but in those infinitesimal seconds, the whole world seems to stop.


The plane’s belly opens, slowly, and it falls, a black mass that carries the power of the sun.


In that split second, as the h-bomb falls towards the earth, and shrieks of terror split the air, and someone, panicked, starts to run, I think, my heart pounding, of what could have been, if only things had been different.


If only we had been able to resolve our conflict, before it came to this.
If only we hadn’t hurt them, and they hadn’t attacked us, in turn, and the cycle hadn’t continued, over and over again, until now.
If only we had seen each other as human beings.

 

And then everything is gone in a flash of light.



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