Fiction: Pearl Harbour

March 31, 2016 Fiction , POETRY / FICTION


Abdul Abubakar



December 7th, 1941

Pearl Harbour.

The winds blew towards the east as the girl behind me braid my hair.

Her name is Kate and she’s a nurse under the United Stated Navy. She tells me about her fiancee John. I’m not really interested in her conversation. My body is here with her while my mind is sitting on a stool close to the house watching as Mama yells at Tom for the type of friends he keeps.

“If you keep going out with those boys, you will leave my house” Mama says from afar. Her voice is getting louder and I think almost all the neighbours are listening.

Why would Tom go?, maybe he should listen to Mama and stop going out with those guys.


“Where will you be in five years?” Kate asks me. I think she must have noticed I’m not here with her and is trying to divert my attention back.

“Five years?” I whisper silently. I stare at the sea as my best friend Rachael and her father walk hand in hand. I turn back to Kate.

“I don’t know where I will be, but I know where I want to be” I say with a twitch.

She smiles, stares at me intently for a second and turns back to my hair.

“I could be a nurse like you and my mama” I say after a while.

“Really?” she asks.

“Yeah” I answer.

I turn back to the sea and watch as the water moves steadily. Rachael and her father are nowhere to be found. All that is left are a group of children playing tag in the sand.

A little boy among the group raises his head and stares at the sky. I stare it too. It’s blue. The colour I love. He turns back to his friends.

He raises his head again and stares back to a particular spot, this time he shows his friends. They all stare at it. I stare at it again. It’s a plane, nothing like I have ever seen.

“Is that ours?” I ask Kate pointing where the plane is.

She looks at it intently for a while and whispers “No!”

She stands up and moves closer while her white flowery dress blows due to the wind.

“Children” she calls out to the kids. Her voice is faint mixed with a British accent. I’m fascinated. The kids look at her and walk forward.

She turns to me and motions with her hand.

“Pearl, let’s go” she says.



We walk to the house with the kids. Kate and I tried to drop them off at theirs but their apartment was empty.


The house is silent. It is not something I am familiar with. With mama shouting, it’s always noisy.

It looks worn out. It’s painted in bright green but even the paint is fading.

Mama sits on the chair with her best friend Mrs. Pavasca. They are silent. The only voice in the room is coming from the radio and it’s low.

I feel Kate’s hands on my shoulders. I think she feels the sombre mood too. It’s rare.

“Mama, what’s wrong” I whisper.

She hushes me with a look. I listen to the radio and watch as Kate sits close to the door while the kids start another game of tag in my family living room.


The radio stops.

Before that, I swear I could hear loud screams coming from the background.

“Jesuits” Mrs Pavacas whispers. She is Spanish. She starts shivering uncontrollably. Mama puts her hand on her friends’ shoulder and comforts her with soft taps.

She turns towards us and mutters four words “We have been attacked.”

My knees feel weak. The kids stop playing and underneath their eyes is the fright as they gaze into the sea.



“Mama,” the little boy who saw the plane cries. I have tried to comfort him but all my efforts have proved abortive. Mrs. Pavasca prays with the rosary beside me. The shivering has stopped.

The neighborhood is quiet. Everyone is locked up in his or her houses.

Mama and Kate were called to treat the wounded. They have been gone for five hours now. The radio still speaks. It’s another reporter, not the one who spoke previously.


We all hear a sound. I freeze, Mrs. Pasvaca’s hands freeze on her rosary. The children looked at each other with terrifying expressions on their faces.

The door to the house suddenly shakes and we all move to the back.

“Isabella?” I hear a voice call out. It’s Kate. Even with everything going on, her voice is still crystal clear. “Isabella, open the door.”

She calls out again.

I move forward but Mrs. Pavasca holds my head midway. She holds my hand for a second and lets me go. I open my hand, it’s her rosary. Why is she giving them to me, what does she think is going to happen to me?

I step in front of the door and my heart beats faster.

I open the door.



Kate is standing on the stairs. Her face is flawless like always but her flowery dress, it is designed in blood. Behind her is Racheal in her father’s arms.


Mama is a small distance from them. She looks like death. In her arms is a limp Tom, he appears lifeless.


She cries, it goes with the wind. I stare at what is left of my family. My heart bleeds.








Abdul Abubakar

My name is Abdul Abubakar. I’m a student of Kogi state university. I’m a writer. Most of my stories have been posted on my Facebook account. I read mostly romance. My favourite authors in this categories are Julia Quinn. I also read other categories of fiction such as ‘Crime’ and ‘Paranormal’, my favourites being Kresley Cole and Nalini Singh.


No Comments Yet!

You can be first to comment this post!

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.