A hand rests on my shoulder, shaking away the memories.
"Honey, I saw you fall," a lady says, a young boy of perhaps eight beside her. "You okay?"
I turn towards her, wiping the tears from my face and nod, unable to speak; incapable of telling her that no, my father murdered my brother. Seeing my face the lady's expression, once filled with pity, twists with hatred.
"You're one of them, huh?" she snaps, shielding her son from me and marching him away. The boy turns to look back at me but his mother forces him to look forward. "Don't look at her, Mitchell. She's evil – all the Jap's are. She's the reason you'll never see Daddy again."
YOU ARE READING
Rising Fire
Historical FictionOur greatest glory is not in never falling - but rising every time we fall. -Confucius This fictitious short story encapsulates the heart-breaking effect of war on the family of a Japanese military official who moved to Australia in the hopes of inf...
