Listen to If They Only Knew
If They Only Knew
by Nicole R.
Echoes of silence ring through the deadened town. Nothing was left; buildings crumbled, roads cratered, people exterminated. In the middle of the rubble burned a pile of clumpy ash, which was sending up a cloud of black, dense smoke. The only sign of past human existence was a half-destroyed library off in the corner of town. In the library— sitting teetering on a wooden shelf— was an old history book. The cover was a dark blue, but you couldn’t really tell anymore because of the coat of sand it was wearing. Its binding embossed with shiny gold print, now dimmed by the sand, marked its plain title: History Book. This book was the remaining survivor of the gruesome destruction.
The library use to be a bright and marvelous place. Sunlight splashed in through the big windows onto the faces of children, highl ighting the naivety in their expressions. Thick, mahogany shelves lined with books stood erect, one behind another like soldiers in a row. But there sat the old history book. It watched anxiously as children passed by with books about cowboys and monsters, fairytales and puppies. Nobody cared to look at the history book. Nobody cared about the truth the book contained.
The windows of the library that use to be a portal of light are now shattered with jagged pieces shooing up like bayonets, threatening to cut anyone if anyone were actually there. The mahogany shelves are covered with soot. Most of them are demolished completely, except for the one that holds the brave history book. It is the only thing left that was a witness to the war that left this town empty.
Care-free children roamed the library searching for the perfect book to read. Mothers peaked their eyes up from their books to check on their contently searching children to make sure they weren't doing anything that would harm them. So much knowledge contained in one room could be overwhelming, but not to the care-free children and their parents. Ignorant of the real world, they searched for the kind of books that will take them to the only place they know: Imagination land, a safe place where nothing bad can happen to you; a place where the truths of the real world are hidden. Once found, they splayed their bodies on the blood-red carpets to get comfy with a nice book about make-believe.
In the real world, destruction has taken place. The care-free children, who use to be lying on the red carpet, are now lying in red pools. The gateway to their safe haven--
Imagination land— had been blown to pieces. While all this madness was happening, the children were confused and asked their parents what was going on. The children had no real protection from what hit them, but they did have lies. Even in their final moments, before the last blast, the parents “protected” the kids by saying everything would be all right. But the prophetic history book knew it wouldn’t be.
A curiously brave little boy once ventured over to the old history book. He just stood there, staring at the gold words on the blue cover. The history book was placed on the ver y top ledge of the shelf. Stretching on his tippy toes, the little boy reached out to grab the book. His fingertips barely touched the cover. If only he were a little taller, a little older… He gave one last thrust up in hopes to reach it, but before he could, his mother pushed his hand away. “Honey, that book is boring. You wouldn’t like it. Here, read this one about frogs!” The history book sighed.
The hollowed-out town now was a breezeway for the wind. Sneaking up from behind the history book, it shoved the book off the shelf. The history book landed hard on its back, exposing its pages. The bolded words, World War I, resonated out into the emptiness. Flipping the pages, the wind sounded again: World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq. The wind finally halted turning one last page: Peace.
The burning pile of ash had stopped smoking. It was now made clear what had been burned. All the books in the library had been cleaned from the shelves, but they missed one: the sad history book that no one wanted; the one that could have saved the town from death and destruction. If they only knew…
by Nicole R.
Echoes of silence ring through the deadened town. Nothing was left; buildings crumbled, roads cratered, people exterminated. In the middle of the rubble burned a pile of clumpy ash, which was sending up a cloud of black, dense smoke. The only sign of past human existence was a half-destroyed library off in the corner of town. In the library— sitting teetering on a wooden shelf— was an old history book. The cover was a dark blue, but you couldn’t really tell anymore because of the coat of sand it was wearing. Its binding embossed with shiny gold print, now dimmed by the sand, marked its plain title: History Book. This book was the remaining survivor of the gruesome destruction.
The library use to be a bright and marvelous place. Sunlight splashed in through the big windows onto the faces of children, highl ighting the naivety in their expressions. Thick, mahogany shelves lined with books stood erect, one behind another like soldiers in a row. But there sat the old history book. It watched anxiously as children passed by with books about cowboys and monsters, fairytales and puppies. Nobody cared to look at the history book. Nobody cared about the truth the book contained.
The windows of the library that use to be a portal of light are now shattered with jagged pieces shooing up like bayonets, threatening to cut anyone if anyone were actually there. The mahogany shelves are covered with soot. Most of them are demolished completely, except for the one that holds the brave history book. It is the only thing left that was a witness to the war that left this town empty.
Care-free children roamed the library searching for the perfect book to read. Mothers peaked their eyes up from their books to check on their contently searching children to make sure they weren't doing anything that would harm them. So much knowledge contained in one room could be overwhelming, but not to the care-free children and their parents. Ignorant of the real world, they searched for the kind of books that will take them to the only place they know: Imagination land, a safe place where nothing bad can happen to you; a place where the truths of the real world are hidden. Once found, they splayed their bodies on the blood-red carpets to get comfy with a nice book about make-believe.
In the real world, destruction has taken place. The care-free children, who use to be lying on the red carpet, are now lying in red pools. The gateway to their safe haven--
Imagination land— had been blown to pieces. While all this madness was happening, the children were confused and asked their parents what was going on. The children had no real protection from what hit them, but they did have lies. Even in their final moments, before the last blast, the parents “protected” the kids by saying everything would be all right. But the prophetic history book knew it wouldn’t be.
A curiously brave little boy once ventured over to the old history book. He just stood there, staring at the gold words on the blue cover. The history book was placed on the ver y top ledge of the shelf. Stretching on his tippy toes, the little boy reached out to grab the book. His fingertips barely touched the cover. If only he were a little taller, a little older… He gave one last thrust up in hopes to reach it, but before he could, his mother pushed his hand away. “Honey, that book is boring. You wouldn’t like it. Here, read this one about frogs!” The history book sighed.
The hollowed-out town now was a breezeway for the wind. Sneaking up from behind the history book, it shoved the book off the shelf. The history book landed hard on its back, exposing its pages. The bolded words, World War I, resonated out into the emptiness. Flipping the pages, the wind sounded again: World War II, Korea, Vietnam, Iraq. The wind finally halted turning one last page: Peace.
The burning pile of ash had stopped smoking. It was now made clear what had been burned. All the books in the library had been cleaned from the shelves, but they missed one: the sad history book that no one wanted; the one that could have saved the town from death and destruction. If they only knew…