Class Room

The teacher split the room in 2. Students pitted against each other; 4 to 19. I counted.

23 children were made to wage war over the use of the Atom Bombs at Hiroshima, and Nagasaki. Those in support flew to the west end of the room, those of us against... forced east. The teacher prompted the west to fire, and I remember standing still as the grave as missiles coasted leisurely my way, striking us like god strikes the sea. 19 tongues licked fire at the cluster of 4 young men and women across from them. The biggest mouths I've ever seen.

After what felt like months upon years of blows at our values, the roaring died out. The teacher poured the remnants of east to the floor, defense was finally an option. We 4 opened our ports, released desperate vowels that looked remarkably like fleets, depleted and combed thin, though tactically arranged. But moments before they reached the enemy they were drowned by louder voices, I remember cringing at the sound of a nation, and without warning thunderous words were thrown in my face. Words like Freedom. Forefathers. "The Creator".

Then I knew how hopeless it was. 4 human beings shut their mouths, having tasted their own noble blood. I struggled to see through a rising film, and I remember I was shaking in fear, as words shrunk to science, as atoms split, and the desks watched waves of color; blues and whites, as they stripped four lips of red.
3, 2, 1,
Boom





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