To Love A Monster

Ch. 2 Little Boy

A couple weeks went by and not a sign of death or Westley power, other than America keeping Russia from getting a big head, was seen. It seemed like everyone else had gotten something out of the war, but all Russia got was a kick in the butt for wanting a little land. That little chunk of Germany wouldn't have been missed. Then again, America hated communism, and that was the only reason the Soviets couldn't have Germany for themselves.

There was a low rumble under Russia's feet. It was nearly August, a long time had passed since May. Russia felt the sharp, piercing cold of Winters fingertips. He did not shiver, for he had grown accustomed to it throughout his childhood.

Japan was cool this time of year, the wind blowing softly in the urban towns. Japan, who had wanted to go to war with his soldiers, was forced to stay home. His boss wanted him around for morale. Japan sat in his seat, staring out the window. People clamored down the street, another siren went off.

Usually, people would throw their hands up and run to bomb shelters or underground bunkers. Children would be left on the streets to die and houses would burn. Screaming would fill the air and then a horrible, still, nothing. Nothing would happen for hours, days sometimes, and people would slowly crawl out of their hiding holes, resuming their daily lives. But this time was different. 

No one ran to the shelters this time. Everyone kept to their own business. There was another low rumble on the ground. The people stopped and looked around. There was a stillness in the air. Japan stood from his mat, he could feel the ground rumble under his feet. The hair on his arms stood straight on end, a fear crept into the air.

A flash of light streaked across the sky, blinding and menacing. Japan fell backwards. The air grew bubbily hot and his skin burned. He stood again, his eyes red from the glow of the sky. A fire stood straight from the ground and grew towards the sky. White hot and billowed over like a gigantic cloud mushroom. A black center emerged, a split second before a gash of what seemed like pure power blew every thing over. Japan was left looking out of his window, still laying flat on his back.

People screamed a scream that the world had never heard before. A cry that everyone had expected but was not prepared for. A scream that was cut off eerily, by ash. Japan stood, insecure of his own footing and stumbled out of his house. He could finally hear the crackle of the sky being torn apart by the blast.

He looked around, but no one around him screamed. Just stood and watched the beginning of their doom. They stood, but did not cry. Japan staggered forward, his heart heavy.

"The war is..." A Japanese woman began, looking astray.

"We will remain." Japan said, standing taller. "Even if the sky catches fire."