The stories and other thoughts of a fantasist . . .
I held her to my chest as debris scattered all around us; chunks of plaster and concrete hit my back as I tried to protect her from its devastation, my suffering nothing against what I had to face, my protection irrelevant to what is true. Her hair was wet against my skin, her green eyes bearing into mine. Beside the hurt she felt as her broken body seemed to make her realize, her eyes spoke of something entirely different. Something only I could understand. Overhead, Japanese fighter planes cut through the skies as everything around us were obliterated by its expelled fury, the rain now nothing but a soothing calm to chaos. A layer of wet to dire consequence. An alternative sheet to mask powerlessness. I held her close as another series of bombs crashed into buildings further away, the sound too hard to bear, the screams and gunshots more horrific than I imagined. They were coming this way.
Her body spasmed only once as she tried to form ‘I love you’ with her sweet, full lips. The happiness in her eyes lingered on as the last breath escaped the body she shared with me; her hands tightened painfully around my arms before it relaxed. The slow but rhythmic pulse I felt against her back now only returned to her, torn away from my hands. I almost lost it. The rain washed the tears from my face as I screamed at the skies, yet its warmth stayed on my cheeks. Raw sobs slammed against my chest as my arms locked around her body, pressing her even harder against my chest, as if that act would ensure her constant presence even though she was no more. My heart began to spasm in arrhythmic beats as pain of enormous quantity surged through my entire body. The hurt was unbearable. The hurt was so much more than death. The hurt was an afterlife.
In the distance, drawing nearer, I could hear unintelligible shouts, abrupt bursts of unseen firearms, jingling sounds as glass broke and scattered to the ground, more women screaming, babies crying, hurried footsteps with owners just out of sight. Sobbing, screaming, my love resting on one arm now, I peered over my shoulder, ripped my gun from its holster, and . . .
How did it end??
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