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letterbladeThis would pretty much follow directly on this.
Also, HALFWAY MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!
*****
New York City, the Lower East Side, winter of 1941
Stella, twenty-four, stares at herself in the cracked mirror. It's near dusk; smoke billows gray outside; through the thin door she hears the radio, FDR.
--when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.
Stares at the golden curls down her back, the thinness of her arms, the white star on the chain round her neck that her father gave her when she was four. The wide blue eyes, the beautiful face, the perfect little figure. You're such a doll, the factory ladies had told her. Go home. Don't ruin your hands here. Hands used to drawing. So good at it she'd been making money, even during the hard years.
Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.
"I want," she says, "to serve my country."
It makes her stand a little straighter. She tosses her head, draws her hair out of the way, studies the lines of her face, the jut of her chin.
With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph. So help us God.
"I want to serve my country, Sir."
It had been curling inside of her for months. Months as she's heard the news from Europe. Curling her hands into fists round her pencils as she watched the newsreels. She feels like every damn time the Krauts or the Japs push through another border, march through more land that isn't theirs, she's winding up more. Taking money home to her disconsolate father and nodding to the old Jewish couple packed into the other two rooms after fleeing Germany a few years ago. Hearing their stories in broken English. Can't imagine what will happen, when she's wound up so far she snaps, when the world goes mad, but she wants, wildly wants, to--she can't even imagine what. Throw herself into the chaos of war and change everything...
I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.
*****
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!
Also, HALFWAY MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!
*****
New York City, the Lower East Side, winter of 1941
Stella, twenty-four, stares at herself in the cracked mirror. It's near dusk; smoke billows gray outside; through the thin door she hears the radio, FDR.
--when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the uttermost but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us.
Stares at the golden curls down her back, the thinness of her arms, the white star on the chain round her neck that her father gave her when she was four. The wide blue eyes, the beautiful face, the perfect little figure. You're such a doll, the factory ladies had told her. Go home. Don't ruin your hands here. Hands used to drawing. So good at it she'd been making money, even during the hard years.
Hostilities exist. There is no blinking at the fact that our people, our territory and our interests are in grave danger.
"I want," she says, "to serve my country."
It makes her stand a little straighter. She tosses her head, draws her hair out of the way, studies the lines of her face, the jut of her chin.
With confidence in our armed forces, with the unbounding determination of our people, we will gain the inevitable triumph. So help us God.
"I want to serve my country, Sir."
It had been curling inside of her for months. Months as she's heard the news from Europe. Curling her hands into fists round her pencils as she watched the newsreels. She feels like every damn time the Krauts or the Japs push through another border, march through more land that isn't theirs, she's winding up more. Taking money home to her disconsolate father and nodding to the old Jewish couple packed into the other two rooms after fleeing Germany a few years ago. Hearing their stories in broken English. Can't imagine what will happen, when she's wound up so far she snaps, when the world goes mad, but she wants, wildly wants, to--she can't even imagine what. Throw herself into the chaos of war and change everything...
I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.
*****
This post is part of the Fanfiction Frenzy for Planned Parenthood, which is
wired_lizard's outing for Day of Blogs, and has raised $235 so far. Like what you see? Please consider donating!