A Long Strange Journey

Bombs Away

In war-torn London, on October 23, 1940, a young girl was walking home from school with her younger brother in hand. The Blitz had been going on for a over a month now, and the streets of their once fair city were lined with rubble and debris. No matter how much they tried to sort it out and clear it away, there was always more of it, and there always would be so long as the Germans continued to drop their bombs. People died. People lost their homes. But still the citizens of London continued to go about their daily lives, determined to keep a stiff upper lip, in true British fashion; and to keep calm and carry on to the best of their abilities. And the children followed the example of the adults.

Which was why, despite all the horrific destruction around them and the constant threat of more bombs hovering over their heads, Hannah and Jonathan Hayes strolled through the streets of their besieged city with their heads held high. As they walked, Jonathan played with a stick he had found, while Hannah hummed the tune of Raisins and Almonds. The soft and sweet melody was pierced by the sudden scream of the air-raid siren.

"Come, Jonathan!" Hannah said urgently, tightening her grip on her younger brother's hand as she made a beeline to the nearest shelter, which happened to be the Underground a block away.

Their pace quickened to a desperate run when a large shadow passed over them, and they  realized the planes were already over their neighborhood. They were only steps away from the top threshold of the stairs leading down into the station when Hannah became aware of something moving vertically out the corner of her eye only a hundred yards further down the street. In the next five seconds before the bomb hit, Hannah used all of her strength to yank her brother in front of her and push him with enough force to send him flying down into the arms of the station manager standing at the bottom of the stairs; and not a moment too soon. She squeezed her eyes shut as the blast hit her.

A wave of heat rolled over Hannah so intense that she thought the flesh would melt right off her bones as she was hurled violently through the air. The pain was so immense her mind couldn't process it, and she realized she could hear herself screaming as her body began to go into shock.

Her eyes were opened. She stared upward as the stars wheeled overhead, even though the  sky had just been bright with daylight a moment ago. Her limbs were heavy, and she couldn't bring herself to move them; there was a strange absence of pain. She didn't know how long she lay there gazing at the heavens, but a strange sensation of loss and loneliness slowly began to well up within her, pushing its way to the surface to escape in the form of tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. Did Jonathan make it? Was he going to be all right? Was she all right? What happened? Was she dead? Paralyzed?

"Well, this is most peculiar!" exclaimed a nervous voice. Hannah heard and smelled the soft crunch of fragrant grass beneath feet and discovered she was lying on a patch of it. "I wondered what it was when I saw that huge burst of flame, but it appears to be a girl!"

"Yes, it would appear so," said another, deeper voice as the faces of two old men appeared in her field of vision, hovering over her. The one in the brown hat had a kind but funny-looking face, and what appeared to be bird droppings in his grey hair; and the one in the blue-grey hat had a long face with sharp eyes, bushy brows, and a noticeable lack of fecal matter anywhere on his person.

"And one with violet eyes at that! I've never seen the like before," remarked the old man in the brown hat curiously.

"Yes, she also appears to be in some kind of trance," said the old man in the grey hat, "or perhaps she's simply stunned? Can you move?" he asked her. Hannah found that she couldn't even blink.

"Oh, dear. She seems to be in a rather bad way, don't you think, Gandalf?" the old man in the brown hat asked his friend, concerned. "What should we do?"