The effect of the nuclear war was huge. Nobody could be outside for a month’s distance from when the bomb was dropped unless you were in a clunky, neon yellow radiation suit. Otherwise you were toast. My family tree seemed to have died off at least half way because not everybody had a bomb shelter, only the rich. Which for us just happened to be our kind neighbors who had become our best (and only) friends from the time we moved here to the nuclear war that had started in 2076. For the last six years of my life I got my news from the tiny crank radio that had sat in the corner for as long as our neighbors, the Holbrook’s, could remember. We had heard that it was safe to come above ground about a week ago, but we were dubious until my father came back today to tell us it was safe. When I poked my head warily above the hatch, nothing seemed to have changed. There was the same creamy marble flooring of the Holbrook’s home, and the elegant beige walls seemed to be in perfect order. Or so we thought.
One step out of that gorgeous room told me that the world had changed… a lot. The effect of the war shook me to my core as I looked out over the soiled not-green-anymore grass that had once upon a time been a vibrant green that the whole neighborhood relished. Our house was reduced to a great heap of rubble and cement, and I felt hot tears coming to my eyes. I wonder what happened to my school and my best friend, Alli. I take it back. I don’t want to know quite yet. I had better brace myself, because there is more in this chaotic world to see and do. Living would be a struggle, and my family is already starting to fall apart. Better enjoy it while it lasts. I never knew something could affect me so much. But then again, I don’t know who I am anymore or what will become of us.
The only sound I hear is the wind that lightly brushes my hair to the side of my face and into my eyes. I can see my eleven year old brother, staring wide eyed at the neighborhood with a gaping mouth that gave him a morbid look. Father is stepping off of their white porch, and I remember gasping as his foot touched the ground. This would have been unheard of a few years ago, and it astonishes me how much things have changed in such a short period of time in my life. His smile is welcoming and makes me feel safer, and with this new confidence I too step off the rickety stairs that shake under my weight, threatening to break. A few minutes later, the whole family and the Holbrook’s are gently touching the earth and smelling the soil. No matter how weird it seemed, I did it too. The earth crumbled under my grasp and the grass snapped weakly even if I poked it. The earth smelled like a dead cow, and I immediately dropped it, just as the rest of us had when I wasn’t looking. Wow, how the world changes.
It’s kind of nice to see the old house, even though I am devastated that it is torn down. It’s hard to believe that right there I had my first steps, and had said my first word. I don’t believe Mother, but she says my first word was mama, while Father says it was papa. My family is weird that way. Mother and Father were supposed to get divorced… six years ago. The very day that they were going to sign the papers, the bomb dropped. You may be wondering, just why did the bomb drop? Well, I’ll tell you. The other countries were threatening us, or so my mom says. But I know the truth. China was afraid that we were going to stop asking for their help in packaging and products. When people get scared, they make mistakes. But people make mistakes, and that forms them into who they are now.
All of a sudden, there was a strange, rustling noise. Everyone’s eyes wandered around the trashed clearing, searching for the source. Father let out the breath he was holding in.
“Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”
Then we heard it again, louder this time. My eyes grew wider. I might find out what it is… If i’m still alive by the time it comes out. Mrs. Holbrook must have found it, because she was pointing anxiously at the nearby pile of wood and cement. So Father and Mr. Holbrook wandered up to it warily, poking it with a nearby stick. Then I heard a shriek. I don’t remember anything, only the dark and the color black.
Three hours later, I was fading back into consciousness. I blinked, adjusting to the bright lights above me, focusing my eyes. The walls were bright and white, as well as the floor and cupboards. It smelled like a dentist’s office; incredibly clean, and like some sort of bleach. My nose wrinkled in disgust. A figure walked into view, with a blue mask and long brown hair, and gently pulled on my arm, telling me to wake up. Or maybe it was just an illusion. The words were jumbled, and I couldn’t figure out what she was saying before I sunk back into my deep sleep, slumping back down. Maybe this was just a bad dream. But i’ll never know for sure, because the air was killing me slowly. My last memories was of my parents, sitting on the end of whatever I was laying on, Father with a stone face and Mother with a tear running down her soft face.
Now, darkness is my best friend.