Creative Writing: My First Vietnam War

That afternoon, my mother and I were tending to the rice field along with other women and children from our village. The sun was beaming so brightly that it permeated through the interstices of my straw hat. “Kim Phuc, don’t stay out in the sun for too long,” my mother yelled from across the field, “your skin will get too dark and aged!” I wondered why she cared so much about my tan when the greater concern, clearly, was the war in our homeland. Although, her remark forced me to revise how poorly I was dressed for the weather. After examining my grey, cotton shorts and flowered tank top, I decided to go back to our hut and find a change of clothes. “Mom, I’m going back to the hut,” I yelled, “but I’ll be back!” Then I hurried out of the rice
I thought about my change of clothes, waiting for me at the hut, and my mother back at the rice field, but I couldn’t decline his offer. We began walking down the dirt road and then came upon the Northern soldiers. They glared as we passed by them and continued to walk outside of the village. Tien Minh and I walked for a while and talked about different things until we heard a loud sound and people screaming in the distance. As we stood there, I wondered who those screams came from. Was it my mother? The other women and children working in the rice field? Out of fear, I ran back toward the village leaving Tien Minh behind. Once I neared the village, I noticed it was completely destroyed by some sort of explosion. The huts were no longer standing but rather deracinated from the ground below them and some villagers laid unconscious, or dead, while others huddled together in disbelief. Suddenly, another explosion occurred only a short distance away from me. I fell to the ground. My ears were ringing from the sound of what I then realized was a bomb. When I regained my senses, I saw that the villagers were running past me in a frantic fashion. Out of panic, I tried to run, but my entire body was covered in a thick, sticky substance that caused my skin to burn profusely. Because I couldn’t endure the pain, I stripped off my cotton shorts and tank top and began running. Fear and panic caused me to run faster, fast enough to where I caught up to Tien Minh who was a short distance ahead of me. As I ran, I thought of the change of clothes I wished I had. Then I thought of my mother. I told her I’d be back, but I wasn’t sure that I