[MillietheWarrior]

(This is just a really quick, really short few posts of something I've been working on; may never be finished)



“Thanks, Mr. Watson!”

Anna hefted the bag into her arms, keeping the contents from spilling out onto the floor by sheer force of luck. “I’ll -oof! These are heavy!- I’ll make sure to say ‘hi’ to my dad for ya!” Mr. Watson shook his head, an amused smile on his face.

“All right, you do that, Anna-girl!” he called as she turned to make her way out of the little grocery store.

[MillietheWarrior]

The sound of the radio, however, stopped her in her tracks. Almost simultaneously, all movement in the tiny store stopped. The men put down their checkers. The women set their vegetables back in the bins. Mr. Watson raised his eyebrows and adjusted his glasses as the voice of the president boomed throughout the small grocery.

[MillietheWarrior]

“Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan.”

The silence was deafening in the store as the speech continued on, and on.

“The attack yesterday on the Hawaiian Islands has caused severe damage to American naval and military forces. I regret to tell you that many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have reportedly been torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu….As commander in chief of the Army and Navy I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense.”

[MillietheWarrior]

“Well,” Mr. Watson said quietly, and all eyes turned to him as he patted the top of the radio beside him. “Looks like America is going to war.”

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Anna stepped out of the store to the pony that waited for her right outside, tied haphazardly to a post.

She set the bag of groceries in one of the baskets twin basks astride it‘s rump; the other side was filled with milk and eggs and meat from the market. “Hear that, Apples?” she asked the dappled pony.

[MillietheWarrior]

Apples lifted it’s head, tossing it’s mane as if to ask what news she’d brought him, though he, in no shape or form, understood what she was saying. “Well, apparently, America is at war.”

Her eyes were round with fear and excitement as she expertly swung up into the saddle. She carefully arranged her skirt in a proper, lady-like fashion. “Oh boy, I can’t wait to get home. I’ve gotta tell mom and dad!” She turned Apples towards home, and the two quickly made a beeline for the Jameson Farm.