The Ghosts of The Past.

I had lived in Japan for around 2 1/2 years, when it happened. I shared my apartment with a young Japanese man, a grown up Japanese Haley Joel Osmond himself, but that is a story for another day.

One hot summers' day we took a trip to Hiroshima. It was the first time I had been to the peace garden. The first place you come to is the Bomb Dome itself. The iconic building left standing on it's own, after the devastating atomic blast, that killed so many innocent people.

An iron fence surrounded the building. As I approached, a voice whispered in my mind, 'Touch it!'. I reached out and grasped the bars with both hands, and closed my eyes. At that instant I was transported through time, back to that dreadful day. As I opened my eyes, a warm wind enveloped me, and stole the breath from my lungs, I slowly turned my head, the world around me had changed. A blinding flash came from an area to my left, the sky turned orange and a wave of energy approached, the fear was too great, I let go of the of the fence. I was back on a warm summers day, in a peaceful green park, on the 20th of August 2002.

I stood in shock for a couple of minutes. Then Seitaro, said to me. 'What's the matter, your skin has gone pale.' I slowly turned to him, raised my hand and pointed, 'It fell over there, the bomb, it fell over there.' Seitaro looked at me. 'How do you know that, you've never been here before!,' 'I saw it', I answered.

We walked on to the epicentre, in silence. A simple shrine was built there, and an eternal flame placed in memory of the lost. A path was dug out of ground beneath the flame. A brass plaque told how the atomic bomb detonated 20 meters above that exact spot. I stepped down between the marble walls of the path, and looked up to the sky. Although, it was a warm summers' day, I was suddenly filled with a piercing cold, it felt like pure evil, and made me feel sick to my stomach. Seitaro caught my arm as I became dizzy from the intensity of the moment.

Unnerved by what was happening to me, I walked with heavy footsteps towards the museum. It wasn't until we stepped inside, that I understood; shadows burnt into stone, rivers of bodies, scores of walking dead heading out of the dust, the souls of thousands, screaming out across the years to anyone who will listen.

I heard their cries, and I will never forget that day, may history never repeat itself.

Chrystal Carter

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