The Meetinghouse

Note: This story contains sensitive content categorized as Tragedy, which is content related to death, disasters, accidents, war, etc.

The Meetinghouse

The street was just as beautiful at night as ever. I was standing just outside my house, looking up and down the street. If I turned right, I would end up deeper into the center of Tokyo, but if I turned left, I would end up at the canal that were running through central Tokyo, just a couple of blocks north of me. The warm march wind blew towards the canal, so I chose to follow it.

I was holding a Graflex in my hands, a present from a friend that I had met in America. As I was walking and taking in the scenery, I couldn’t help but smile. I loved it here and I couldn’t believe my luck when I had heard about a house in central Tokyo that had been put up for sale. When I got in contact with the seller and got a good look at the place, I had to almost pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. It all had seemed too good to be true. I had immediately placed a bid and won. Which was to be expected considering how high my bid had been. It would have been surprising if someone had bid higher than me. Most people didn’t share my passion for the big city, and wouldn’t think it worth biding any higher than absolutely necessary. Many considered the big cities dangerous as well, with the war going on and all. The pamphlets that had been dropped over the city in recent days had also created quite a stir. Many had evacuated the city, but most had stayed, just like me. Unlike me however, most people stayed because they couldn’t afford to move. Moving would mean losing their jobs and abandoning everything they owned with risk of losing it while they were gone. It’s not as easy to run as the government seems to think when once’s roots have been planted somewhere. My wealth enabled me to run wherever I pleased but why would I? I enjoyed an early retirement living in a place I loved, pursuing a hobby of mine which I had discovered in America: photography. It was actually a little more than just a hobby by now. It was a passion of mine. Documenting life through photography was the height of technology. Freezing a moment in time to forever be viewed by others is an astonishing human accomplishment. I could give people a window into parts of the world they would have never seen otherwise. That, if anything, is a magnificent gift.

I was closing in on the canal when I stopped and turned around. The lights from the houses lit up the street and all the people running errands, walking home from work, or simply enjoying a nice evening walk. I could see a few families walking with their children too. It felt like a good scene for a picture. I raised my camera and carefully went back and forth and up and down in order to find an angle that felt right. I always took my time when taking photos. Photography shouldn’t be rushed.

After almost an hour I had taken a few photos that I felt I would be pleased with. I realized I was sweating slightly in the warm spring night from tensing my body while trying to stabilize my camera. As I realized this, I made myself relax, and turned around towards the canal. There was a small street running alongside the canal between me and the water, which enabled me to get a great view of the houses on the opposite side of the canal. It was a bit too dark to get a proper picture of this view, but maybe it would work. Just as I raised my camera again to find a good angle, the air raid sirens broke the relative quiet of the city. The sound made me jump and my heart skipped a beat when I almost dropped my camera. I looked around to see what had happened, but all I could see was other people’s confused faces. Nothing had seemed to change, but the sirens where still shouting out their warnings.

A low rhythmic rumble could be heard, blending into the wailing of the sirens like a strange orchestra. I couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from but as I looked up into the sky there were flashes of light in the east. As more and more people also noticed this, a sense of urgency spread through the crowd. People were hurrying home and the street was starting to become darker and darker as the lights in the houses went out. My heart was beating fast and the adrenaline was starting to kick in, but I wasn’t sure what to do. More distant rumbles could be heard now, but they sounded slightly different. As I looked towards the canal, I realized I could get a pretty good view of eastern Tokyo from there, and in the fraction of a second, I made my decision. I ran across the small street, placing myself as close to the edge of the canal as I could. The eastern horizon was lit up from what looked like massive fires. From this distance it was difficult to tell how big the damages were, but considering the intense fire from the anti-air guns it must be a big attack. It was probably the Americans again. This wasn’t the first time they had conducted bombing air raids on Tokyo, but this seemed like the biggest one yet.

I don’t know how long I was standing there, mesmerized by the scenery. Only when I realized the fires were getting bigger and closer did I snap myself out of it. Suddenly several buildings across the Sumida River, only a kilometer away, went up in flames as dozens of bombs rained down over the district, crashing down through the roofs and exploding shortly after. Despite the loud sirens and the massive booms from the explosions, screams still reached my ears. The lights from the fires illuminated the streets, and small dots were running back and forth. Some lights seemed to be moving as well, and to my horror I realized it was people that had been set on fire. They were running blindly, frantically flailing their arms, until they collapsed on the ground and stopped moving. Some of them had enough sense to jump into the water, but even then, the fires didn’t go out. Somehow, they were still burning in the water. During this complete chaos, I heard a new sound I didn’t recognize at all. It sounded like a whistle, but it was monotone and seemed to become stronger and stronger. I forced myself to break my eye contact with the horrendous scenery in front of me. I had to get out of here. I had to go west to seek shelter. But first I need to get home. I took a couple of steps towards the street leading up to my house before I became aware of what I was holding. I looked down at my hands and was almost surprised to see my camera. My Graflex. That’s right! My camera! I looked back at the burning eastern part of the city. This, if anything, was probably the most important thing I could photograph. Letting the world see what was happening here. I raised my camera and pointed it east. The whistling became stronger. The roof of a house 50 meters down the street along the canal suddenly seemed to explode as a bomb went through it. I stared in shock at the house, and for a few seconds, nothing seemed to happen. But then suddenly the house exploded into white flames that was so blindingly bright I had to look away. More houses further into the city suffered the same fate and soon screams could be heard all around me. I had to move away from here, and I could see people running west along the canal. It seemed like a good idea to follow them but then I remembered my house. My belongings. If I was fast enough, I would be able to get a few important things with me. I started running towards the street leading up to my house but didn’t even get across the canal street before a few houses on the left side went up in roaring flames. I quickly turned right and started running west as fast as I could along the canal. The fires didn’t seem to have reached the street parallel to my street that were only a block away, so I turned and started running up it. This street was much smaller than the one I lived on, and it was almost claustrophobic in comparison. If the fires reached this street there weren’t anywhere I could run. The wooden houses were too close to each other and would quickly create a fiery inferno around me, blocking any escape route that I could use. I pushed these thoughts away from my mind and focused instead on not falling over while I was running across the slightly uneven ground. The crossing street at the end was getting closer, but based on how bright it seemed, it seemed like some buildings were on fire. Nevertheless, I had to take my chances. If I took a left turn, I would soon reach my street and from there it would not be far to my house.

When I finally reached the crossing street, the shock of what I saw stopped me in my tracks. Along the opposite side of the street, almost every house was on fire, burning bright and white, completely illuminating everything around me. To my right the white fire seemed to burn everything it could find, and had spread out into the streets. It looked like the street itself was melting. Something caught my attention slightly to the left of where I was standing. I turned my head towards it. It looked like two black dolls lying on the ground, and I took a couple of steps closer to get a better look without thinking. It was the charred body of a woman, laying on her stomach with one leg in the air and her arms under her chest. It looked like she had been crawling when she died, and now her body was stuck in this permanent position. Next to her right leg laid another body. It was laying on its back with one arm lifted and its left leg resting on its mother’s right leg. The little body was also charred beyond recognition, so tiny it couldn’t have been older than 2 years old. They looked like black mannequins and it was difficult to understand that they were actually human bodies, so surreal was the scene.

The shock made my legs weak, and I fell down on my knees. Tears flooded my eyes and my breathing started to quicken. My mouth was open in a silent scream, but no sound came out. My eyes were locked on this horrible picture. The picture. A picture. I slowly became aware of my camera that I was still holding in a spasmodic grip. I looked down at my camera and up again, almost blinded by tears. Without thinking I raised the camera to my eyes and snapped a picture. The familiar sound of the camera when I took the picture helped me get out of my state of shock. I forced myself up on my feet again, and slowly started to walk left, towards the street where my house was. The walk turned into a jog which slowly turned into a sprint as I regained my energy with the help of the adrenaline pumping in my body. I quickly reached the street where my house was and took a right. A strong sensation of relief rushed through me when I saw that my house and several houses surrounding it hadn’t burned down. As far as I could see, this part of the street had miraculously avoided the fires. When I quickly came closer to my house my brain had started to pick up pace, and a plan was starting to form. It felt like the initial shock was pouring off me and I could think a bit clearer. I should try and get out of the city by going west, but if I took my camera with me and something happened to me, it would probably be destroyed. When I finally reached my front door and opened it, I had decided on what to do. I would put my camera in my safe in the hopes that it would not be destroyed by the fires. Even if my house burned down, the safe might survive. It was on the second floor, so I ran up the stairs taking two steps at a time and sat myself down in front of the safe in my spare bedroom. I looked at it for a few minutes, trying to calm my heavy breathing so that I could steady my hands. Sweat was running down my face and into my eyes, but I tried to ignore it as I carefully started turning the dial on my safe. It took me two tries to stop my hands from shaking enough to turn the dial correctly, but I finally got it open and quickly cleared some space so that my camera could fit. It was a big thing, my camera, but my safe was luckily big enough to house it along with the rest of my valuables and documents that I already stored there. I silently thanked my past self for not choosing a smaller and cheaper option as I closed the door to the safe and locked it.

Now I just needed to get out of the city, and the only thing I needed for that was my wallet, which was already in my pocket. I ran downstairs and out on the street again, not even bothering to close front door behind me. The streets were empty now and the last thing on my mind was someone robbing me. The houses towards the canal were still burning brightly, so I started running the opposite way. I knew that there was a street further south that would lead me east and out of the Nihonbashi district. I just needed to cross another small canal and I would reach it. After what felt like an eternity, a bridge started to take shape in the darkness in front of me and as I got closer to it, a whistling sound grew stronger and stronger. I knew what that sound was now. What it meant. My lungs were burning from all the running, and the whistling seemed to drain the power out of my body. I quickly lost speed until I stopped completely, breathing heavily. The whistle became stronger and stronger until it seemed to completely fill the air with its sound, blocking out every other sound from my world. I couldn’t help but look back to where I had come from. It was a slightly elevated spot where I was standing, and all I could see was burning buildings. There were parts of the scenery that were dark, where the fires didn’t seem to have spread. The whistle rang in my ears. New spots of lights appeared on the canvas in front of me, as more firebombs exploded. It looked like some sort of hellish light show, accompanied with its personal monotone soundtrack. It was all too much. The whistling filled my ears, it almost hurt. I didn’t want to see anymore. Didn’t want to hear. So I closed my eyes, and the whistling stopped.