i totally break the voice-over rule, but fuck-it. it’s about packing it into 5 pages.<\/p>\n
Hiroshima<\/span><\/p>\n INT. CHILD’S NURSERY\/JAPANESE HOUSE – DAY<\/p>\n INSERT TITLE: MAY, 1945<\/p>\n A small, bare Japanese bedroom with a tatami bed is being An elderly handyman (MR. YAMAMOTO), his face and hands world MR. YAMAMOTO HANA Hana looks out the window towards the blue skies. Her face is MR. YAMAMOTO HANA There is a knock at the door, and Hana lumbers to her feet to HANA Mr. Yamamoto runs and catches her before her body hits the INT. CHILD’S NURSERY\/JAPANESE HOUSE – LATER<\/p>\n Hana wakes to see the worried face of Mr. Yamamoto. She is MR. YAMAMOTO Hana struggles to sit up.<\/p>\n MR. YAMAMOTO HANA MR. YAMAMOTO HANA MR. YAMAMOTO HANA MR. YAMAMOTO Outside, the sound of low-flying planes buzzes the air, a INT. CHILD’S NURSERY\/JAPANESE HOUSE – DAY<\/p>\n INSERT TITLE: JULY, 1945<\/p>\n Hana is sitting in her usual spot by the window, knitting. TAKAO (V.O.) EXT. PLAINS\/MANCHUKUO – DAY<\/p>\n A plane crashes to the ground. It’s a terrible crash. The TAKAO (V.O.) EXT. OCEAN – NIGHT<\/p>\n A man is struggling in the water under a full moon.<\/p>\n TAKAO (V.O.) INT. CHILD’S NURSERY\/JAPANESE HOUSE – DUSK<\/p>\n Hana clutches the letter to her chest, looking out the window INT. CHILD’S NURSERY\/JAPANESE HOUSE – EARLY MORNING<\/p>\n INSERT TITLE: August 6, 1945<\/p>\n Mr. Yamamoto is painting the walls a clean, cream color. Hana MR. YAMAMOTO HANA MR. YAMAMOTO Suddenly, Mr. Yamamoto’s expression changes to one of MR. YAMAMOTO As they look out the window, the sky suddenly turns red and Hana cries in pain. Her water breaks.<\/p>\n EXT\/INT. TRAIN – DAY<\/p>\n Takao sits on a train, staring at the passing scenery. A SOLDIER Takeo shakes his head.<\/p>\n SOLDIER TAKAO INT. CHILD’S NURSERY\/JAPANESE HOUSE – NIGHT<\/p>\n Takao rushes in, leaning on a cane.<\/p>\n TAKAO By the window, Hana turns, a warm bundle in her arms. Her HANA TAKAO Takao takes the bundle, and holds her, her tiny hand reaching TAKAO He looks at his wife, eyes full of love. He embraces her like HANA i totally break the voice-over rule, but fuck-it. it’s about packing it into 5 pages. Hiroshima INT. CHILD’S NURSERY\/JAPANESE HOUSE – DAY INSERT TITLE: MAY, 1945 A small, bare Japanese bedroom with a tatami bed is being transformed into a joint bedroom-nursery. An elderly handyman (MR. YAMAMOTO), his face and hands world worn, assembles a […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[10],"class_list":["post-2807","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-fiction"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/sbl5mn-2807","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2807","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2807"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2807\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3485,"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2807\/revisions\/3485"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2807"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2807"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/juliashih.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2807"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
transformed into a joint bedroom-nursery.<\/p>\n
worn, assembles a bamboo crib as a luminescent pregnant woman
in her 20’s, her long, beautiful hair neatly pleated to frame
her smooth, radiant face, sits near a window, knitting. This
is HANA TAKAHASHI, 6 months pregnant. On the dresser, is a
black & white wedding photo of her with her husband, TAKAO, a
handsome man in a pilot’s uniform.<\/p>\n
Where is Takao now?<\/p>\n
Flying supplies in Manchukuo. He
can’t say much about his missions,
but he hopes to be home in time for
the baby.<\/p>\n
stoic but can not hide the worry.<\/p>\n
(kindly)
You and Takao will have a long and
blessed life with this child.<\/p>\n
Thank you, Mr. Yamamoto.<\/p>\n
answer. It is a TELEGRAM MESSENGER, a young boy with head
bowed, hands her a telegram. He can not meet her eyes. She
rips open the envelope and reads.<\/p>\n
No…<\/p>\n
ground.<\/p>\n
laying on the tatami, a wet towel over her forehead.<\/p>\n
I made tea if you’d like…<\/p>\n
Please, lay. Too much excitement is
not good for the baby.<\/p>\n
Takao–<\/p>\n
Yes, the telegram.<\/p>\n
Dead.<\/p>\n
Missing.<\/p>\n
Missing means they haven’t
recovered the body.<\/p>\n
You must not think such thoughts.
Until you know, do not open your
door to darkness.<\/p>\n
patrol squadron, but the sound floods Hana’s heart, a single
tear falling, leaving a wet trail of sorrow.<\/p>\n
Her stomach is bigger now. In the corner, the crib sits,
assembled. Every sound of planes draws her eyes to the sky. A
KNOCK comes at the front door. It’s the MAILMAN with a
letter. She opens it and lets out a scream of joy.<\/p>\n
Dearest Hana. I am writing to let
you know I am alive.<\/p>\n
navigator slumps in the back, the pilot is bloody but
breathing.<\/p>\n
Our plane went down in the
uninhabited plains of the mainland,
my navigator Kenji was killed on
impact. It was only by sheer
miracle that I lived, though my
body was crushed and useless. For 4
days, I lay trapped, the only water
from light rainfall, no food,
waiting to be rescued, waiting to
die, waiting for some way out of
the twisted metal that had become
my world. Days into night, I felt
the crushing hopelessness, as
overwhelming as the pain of my
broken body. I would have gone
insane if it wasn’t for you–your
spirit, your voice, whispering in
my ear at my most desperate
moments, to hold on. By the 3rd
night, I was overcome by fever,
convinced I was nearing the end.<\/p>\n
In fever, I dreamed, of a dark
ocean smelling of metal, burning
and death. The smells of war. In
the distance, I could hear the
moans of the dying. I was drowning
in it, wave after wave like human
hatred, pushing my head underwater.
I screamed your name over and over,
Hana…I wasn’t ready to let you
go. Suddenly, I looked up, and
there was a little girl standing
above me. You wouldn’t believe it.
She had your eyes, your long,
beautiful hair, an angel. She said
her name was Fumiko, and she’d come
to save me. She reached out a tiny
hand, and I took it, and with
complete ease, she pulled me into
the moon, a place so white and full
of grace, the black waters could no
longer drown me. I knew I was
saved. When I woke, I was in a
hospital in Changchun, having spent
weeks in and out of consciousness.
Hana, they say as soon as I can
walk, I’m coming home. Please
forgive me for what grief I have
caused you, a husband lost for
dead. My body is broken, but your
love saved my life. Just know that
I am fighting to get back to you,
and soon our lives will be one.<\/p>\n
at the darkening sky. She cries tears of relief.<\/p>\n
brings in a tray of tea. She hands him a small cup and he
comes to sit next to her.<\/p>\n
Takao will be here by the end of
the month?<\/p>\n
Yes, he’s coming by train. He uses
a cane, but he can walk.<\/p>\n
A miracle. You can’t ask for more.<\/p>\n
confusion. Hana follows his gaze out the window.<\/p>\n
I saw a flash.<\/p>\n
the air in the room wavers with heat, the glass of the window
seeming to bend. Air raid sirens SCREAM. Mr. Yamamoto pulls
Hana to the floor just before the glass bursts. Everything
rumbles around them.<\/p>\n
group of soldiers nearby are tuning a handheld radio
broadcasting Emperor Hirohito’s address of surrender. ANGRY
UPROAR. A SOLDIER with a bandaged arm that ends with a stump
sits down next to him.<\/p>\n
It’s over now. We’ve lost.<\/p>\n
Where’s home, brother?<\/p>\n
Hiroshima.<\/p>\n
Hana?<\/p>\n
hair is long and sleek, down to her back. She bounds towards
him and they embrace, tears flowing. She holds out the baby.<\/p>\n
Fumiko.<\/p>\n
The angel who saved my life.<\/p>\n
out for him. He clasps it in his.<\/p>\n
And to think, each day, her hands
will never be this small again.<\/p>\n
he’ll never let her go and kisses her. But something’s wrong.
Her hair hangs limply against her back from his hand. He
looks up and sees that she is bald, her hair a wig that’s
fallen. She’s sick. Her face is wet with tears.<\/p>\n
I’m so sorry, Takao.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"