The Humming | Teen Ink

The Humming

November 20, 2007
By Anonymous

As I sat still in my bed trying to get to sleep, I could only glare at the shadows in my room. Impish blobs danced around me, playing with my imagination in a sinister fashion. I was about 4 years old, and my biggest concern was using the big girl potty and withstanding the urge of sleeping in my mothers’ bed. She always frowned upon whenever I’d let my imagination go wild, so most of the time I kept it as a little secret with myself.

Distant humming took my attention away from the profound shadows that were being cast off by the lilac tree outside my window. It reminded me of my mother humming as she cooked or cleaned. I got out of my bed and looked out my window. Music came out of my little lungs, as I matched the pitch to the lyrical buzz. In my little heart though, something didn’t seem right. Thoughts showered in my head as to what could be happening, but none of them made sense. I decided to go get my mommy. Running across the stumpy hallway, my feet slide as if I was on frozen water.

“Mommy, Mommy! I hear something,” I said while tugging at her arm.

“What Kayano?” she said while getting up. I dragged her by the arm to my window, and could see something faintly in the distance. Bubbly masses that were purple-gray melted over the houses, what looked miles away. Then a strange gust hit my mom and I backwards. I could see minor discoloration in my skin, wondering what was going on. Mother scooped me up and ran out the door. Thousands of cries rang through my ears, and chaos spread like wild fire across the town of Hiroshima. Eventually my mommy took me by the hand and started to run with me in opposite direction. Rustic scents filled my nostrils, and I lost grip of my mothers’ hand. People were in the way and I could not see her.

“Mommy!” I cried hysterically. I searched and searched. Tingly sensations went up my legs, and I felt like my feet had nails going through them. I wasn’t use to being barefoot. Mindless people, who looked like zombies, further in the town were falling over and convulsing. “What’s happening?!” I asked but no one cared to pay attention to a panic-stricken child. The earth hated me, and I felt sickened. I scampered toward a corner of the street, and then my stomach decided to eject its dinner. A pumpkin field near the end of the street was blown clean and I ran around it trying to find the nearest shelter. Then I noticed a woman’s head. Looking closer, I could discern that it was a woman who I knew none of. “She must be from a different part of town,” I explained to myself, as if saying it out loud gave my life meaning. Images of horrific mutilated heads spun around my body when I started to black out.

Days later I awoke and found myself in another town with my cousin Yuuka and her mother Saki. “Where’s mommy?” I asked.

“She is gone,” Saki replied. Without a question I knew that she meant that my mommy was permanently gone. Bitter tears filled my eyes. The atom bomb was the last thing that happened in the war and no more bad things would happen, but I don’t have my mommy anymore. She is gone forever, all because of that distant hum that brought me joy for very little time.

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