Short story - The Sound of War.
Mar. 27th, 2023 01:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ghostkid_703A quick note before I post this, I wrote this in 2019 before Russia invaded Ukraine, while this story was not based on that I realize now it does have some parallels, I just want to say that I don't mean to offend or hurt anyone so if you are not okay with war stories don't read this.
The Sound of War.
Being young, in the generation I am, and living where I do I’ve never truly witnessed war. Sure things happened when I was little and I live in a border city but I don’t remember any of it, being the sheltered child I was. All of that stood true until two weeks ago. It started as public statements, protests, and my mom constantly watching the news. It all seemed so unreal, just another one of those things that the news would cover for a week then it’d be sorted out and forgotten. Oh, how I wish that was the case. The day the news came out that a neighboring country had waged war on us we were all sent home from school. There was shouting in the streets, frantic parents, and noise everywhere. My mother rushed me and my younger sister home, dodging all the chaos in the streets. When we got home the TV was already on. A news reporter was talking about the current situation and lockdown, he looked like he was trying to keep his composure but failing. That’s when I realized the streets had gone silent, and they stayed that way for the next eight days. I remember laying in my room hoping and praying that this was the type of war where they just disagreed, not one where they wanted something. But I was yet again wrong. It was on that ninth day. I was out with my mom and sister picking up our groceries. We had just finished and were walking out when the alert started. “Attention attention, all residents evacuate into your homes or closest buildings and go on hold, I repeat all residents evacuate into your homes or closest buildings and go on hold!” That message blasted on every phone and through every emergency speaker. My mother grabbed our hands and rushed us both back into the store. All I could hear was the sound of the alarm and people rushing around. You could almost taste the panic in the air. We sat in that store for what felt like hours, just listening and waiting. That was until the stomping started. It started as just a faint step then turned into a loud rumble. Hundreds of boot-adorned feet march their way unto our city. It was almost melodic. The soldiers marched into our walls telling us to stay inside. Stay inside, stay inside, stay inside. Those were the last words I heard before the explosion. It was bright, brighter than anything I had ever known. I don’t know why but at the moment I remembered a time in kindergarten I was coloring outside, it was hot and sunny. All the other kids were playing tag and running around laughing. But I just sat there content with my picture. Something about it entranced me, the bright orange sun I had drawn was almost glowing. Then suddenly I snapped back to reality. Screaming everywhere, yelling, children, everything all at once. I looked up to realize the building was coming down. I couldn't see my mom or sister, so I ran. I wish I hadn't. maybe then I would have found them. Maybe I would have changed things. But I didn't, I sprinted out into the chaos-filled street. I couldn't focus. I couldn't see. Everything was nothing and nothing was everything. Suddenly another white shining light came down from the sky, almost like a fallen angel. People have always asked what war sounds like. Some say it’s a trumpet, others would say a bagpipe, and scientists would say screams and fright. They're all wrong. It sounds like an off-beat drum thumping as you step towards death, and a flute playing the same melody over and over welcoming you. You never truly forget that sound. Not even in death.
The Sound of War.
Being young, in the generation I am, and living where I do I’ve never truly witnessed war. Sure things happened when I was little and I live in a border city but I don’t remember any of it, being the sheltered child I was. All of that stood true until two weeks ago. It started as public statements, protests, and my mom constantly watching the news. It all seemed so unreal, just another one of those things that the news would cover for a week then it’d be sorted out and forgotten. Oh, how I wish that was the case. The day the news came out that a neighboring country had waged war on us we were all sent home from school. There was shouting in the streets, frantic parents, and noise everywhere. My mother rushed me and my younger sister home, dodging all the chaos in the streets. When we got home the TV was already on. A news reporter was talking about the current situation and lockdown, he looked like he was trying to keep his composure but failing. That’s when I realized the streets had gone silent, and they stayed that way for the next eight days. I remember laying in my room hoping and praying that this was the type of war where they just disagreed, not one where they wanted something. But I was yet again wrong. It was on that ninth day. I was out with my mom and sister picking up our groceries. We had just finished and were walking out when the alert started. “Attention attention, all residents evacuate into your homes or closest buildings and go on hold, I repeat all residents evacuate into your homes or closest buildings and go on hold!” That message blasted on every phone and through every emergency speaker. My mother grabbed our hands and rushed us both back into the store. All I could hear was the sound of the alarm and people rushing around. You could almost taste the panic in the air. We sat in that store for what felt like hours, just listening and waiting. That was until the stomping started. It started as just a faint step then turned into a loud rumble. Hundreds of boot-adorned feet march their way unto our city. It was almost melodic. The soldiers marched into our walls telling us to stay inside. Stay inside, stay inside, stay inside. Those were the last words I heard before the explosion. It was bright, brighter than anything I had ever known. I don’t know why but at the moment I remembered a time in kindergarten I was coloring outside, it was hot and sunny. All the other kids were playing tag and running around laughing. But I just sat there content with my picture. Something about it entranced me, the bright orange sun I had drawn was almost glowing. Then suddenly I snapped back to reality. Screaming everywhere, yelling, children, everything all at once. I looked up to realize the building was coming down. I couldn't see my mom or sister, so I ran. I wish I hadn't. maybe then I would have found them. Maybe I would have changed things. But I didn't, I sprinted out into the chaos-filled street. I couldn't focus. I couldn't see. Everything was nothing and nothing was everything. Suddenly another white shining light came down from the sky, almost like a fallen angel. People have always asked what war sounds like. Some say it’s a trumpet, others would say a bagpipe, and scientists would say screams and fright. They're all wrong. It sounds like an off-beat drum thumping as you step towards death, and a flute playing the same melody over and over welcoming you. You never truly forget that sound. Not even in death.