Rescued

Originally Written 4/13/2019

When the bomb fell there was little warning. I was a normal girl. I went to school, minded my parents, focused on my studies. I didn't have much of a care in the world. Even with the possibility of occupation in my home city of Hiroshima. Filled with beautiful ancient archways, divine houses, and buildings lining the streets.

I passed by many on my way to school on August 6, 1946. Tying my dark black hair back as I walked the busy, crowded walkways that buzzed with news about the war. I remember stopping to adjust my knee-length socks and fit the heel of the slip-on shoe I wore.

It all happened without much warning. The smell in the air changed from the scents of street food and dashi, human sweat, and car exhaust to a strong smell of petrol as suddenly we saw plans buzzing by from a distance. That was when the alarm was sounded and full panic broke out.

I ran to the closest building I could find, pushing past the bodies of those much bigger than my petite self to get there. I squeezed past frightened people and crying mothers all scrambling for safety and made it into a small shop. It looked and smelled like flowers were sold here but any thought of their beauty was lost in my panic.

I heard a rumble outside and quickly ran for the sturdy wooden counter that was closed off on one side. I ducked my tiny form behind and under it as they had taught us in class to do when the alarms sounded.

I heard the screams before I heard the explosion. Several people bursting through the door of my hiding space just as a wave of fire and radiation burst through their bodies and I cowered and trembled as the desk came crashing down around me and rubble fell throughout the shop.

I dared to peek up, only to find the people who had entered gone. My heart froze as I turned to see their shadows burned into the wall behind me. I tried to move my leg but it wouldn't budge. Then the pain set it. I could feel hot blood pooling around my pinned leg, the iron smell permitting my nostrils and leaving an acrid taste in my mouth. I felt like I would vomit but I suppressed that urge long enough to see a large cross beam fall and hit me across the head as the building collapsed. Then nothing but darkness.

I awoke to a white room, with worried doctors and nurses in white clothes standing over me, discussing my vitals. I made a weak noise like a kitten and everyone went quiet.

“Makiko Watanabe?” Said a pale-faced, dark-eyed doctor. “How do you feel?”

“What happened? Where am I?” I asked with a strained voice feeling pain all over my body.

“There was an attack. You're safe now,” he assures “It's August 9th and you're at the hospital here in Nagasaki.”