osakabomb

Andri huddled herself up in the seat, starting to fall asleep to the quiet hum of the ship's engines. Outside the window, endless stars passed by. As her mind drifted. She was feeling a little happy to be leaving the station they were stationed at before. It was a small one, comprised mostly of adults. Everything was ordinary and routine, nothing more than basic military research. The people there nice and treated Andri and Hannah well, but ultimately, Andri was simply bored there.   "We should be there in a few minutes, Andri," Hannah Shepard said. "Are you excited?"   Andri looked up at her mother, "I am! This place sounds interesting.

On the edge of the Capitol Wasteland, far west from the Potomac River, removed from any cities or settlements, Suri stood before a large hill with a tall, metal tower resting on the top. It towered high into the air, thin antennae and metal dishes covering every inch of the structure. An oblong metal hub sat atop the tower. The entire tower was sectioned off by a chain link fence.   She began climbing up the hill. The dirt shifted with each step, making it difficult to pull herself up the hill. She reached the top, after a bit of strain. She stopped to catch her breath, sighing lightly. Inside the fenced in area, there was a large, round cy

There are a lot of things that disappeared when the bombs fell all those years ago. Aside from humanity, sound is another thing that is long gone from this place. Back in Vault 101, Suri had read about the world was like before everything happened in books, usually recanted by pre-war ghouls who actually remembered it for what it was. The places she saw used to be filled with lush greens, massive amounts of people going about their daily lives. She could only wonder how it must have felt to be in such a large world when it was full of life. But now, it all just sits in silence. Even in Megaton and Rivet City, there is an unsettling silence th

Each day, when I wake up, the pale light from the ceiling fills my eyes. I lay in bed and stare at the white ceiling for several minutes before sitting up. I glance around the room, and it also looks the same as it does every morning. It's empty, except for the bed, a nightstand and a table with two chairs on the far end of the room. That's for when the lady in the white coat visits and we have our talks. She brings me games or sometimes reads me books. I really like it when she visits. She smiles a lot, and that makes me smile.     On the far right of the room, there's a large window, but the room on the other side is darkened. But even th

     I'm tired of coming to the same classroom everyday. I'm tired of seeing the same detached and disinterested faces of students coming in and out of here. Smelling the same smell of the chalk dust on the blackboard that looms aged and cracked behind me is, like myself, getting old. I often find myself distracting myself from their vacant expressions. I pretend to read quotes out loud from the plays I attempt to teach them even though I've memorized them all by this point. They care nothing for Shakespeare's writings on the human condition and they couldn't care less about seeing if Godot should ever arrive.