dastardly, and I was not sure if we would make it out of this all alive.
My crewmembers took me away from the stage, hiding me in the back. I looked to one of them, a man wearing a bandanna. “What the hell is going on?” I said to him. “Do you know anything?”
The flutter of wind in my ear whipped against my skin. Gunshots now rattled and took over the night, as many bullets as there were stars. Crying, lots of crying. People lying down on the ground, but no longer to rest. Their souls going up to heaven somewhere, or wherever you might think souls go. Maybe they didn’t even exist.
“We’ve got to go and hide,” the man said. There was something very strange about him smiling in the middle of a horror show. Really? “Come with me.”
Suddenly, all of my crew surrounded me, swarmed me, and held onto me. A bag went over my head. A black bag that cut off the light.
Then I felt a sharp knife against my spine. One that pushed me forward and against the ground.
When my knees hit the floor, a rattling shook my world. An earth-shattering rumble that started out in the forest and swept across the land. Like an earthquake, it made my body turn to liquid, and my feet completely unsteady. I could do no more than to lay as if I were dead, feigning interest in life.
Smoke curled around my nose. Even if I had a black sack around my face, I smelled smoke.
An industrial smoke, the kind you might find in a factory of some sorts, an explosion maybe.
A huge bombing.
HENRIETTA
April 2 nd would forever be remembered in world history as the bloodiest event in Korean history.
Okay, maybe not as big as some of the wars gone past.
But shit, there were hundreds of people who died in the bombing—what was called the Great Massacre later on.
From CNN to Fox News, you could see all of the figureheads talking and talking about the bloodiness, the ruthlessness, and the surprise.
No one expected a bombing in the middle of a concert anywhere. Especially Jong-soo’s, who had been a beloved popstar and singer for some time.
Whenever you turned on to the Korean channels, there were people crying, people clutching their children, people yelling about the travesty, “how anybody could do such a thing like this…”
In days that followed, a bunch of news article detailed the evidence of what had happened.
Who caused the bombing?
Speculation indicated terrorists of some sort. Terrorists from the Middle East, but that seemed like too easy a target.
Everyone in those days wanted to blame the Middle East for everything.
And it was unlikely.
The Far East did not have the same kind of social capital other countries like the United States did. It didn’t really make much sense to target Korea—what message would there be to spread? To send?
There wasn’t any.
Korea wasn’t even on the map for a terrorist’s mind. In other words: there was little to gain in Korea, politically or otherwise.
Then rumors swirled about a plot coming out of Malaysia or Indonesia, which could make more sense, if you really stretched the facts.
It had almost 0 tensions between any of those countries and Korea.
Really? Malaysia and Korea? Indonesia and Korea? Were people this ignorant in the West? Seriously, Korea and those countries had not much of history at all together.
At least not in the same vein like Japan and Korea, or China and Korea, or even the Philippines and Korea.
Some even speculated the people responsible for the Great Massacre were those who made Malaysia Airline planes disappear.
Which sounded plausible, but still ridiculous. No evidence had shown up from the Malaysia Airline planes, so how could we possibly say anything about the bombings and Korea? That didn’t makes sense one bit either.
Especially with all of the evidence laying around at the concert grounds. The wreckage of bombs and body parts. Gruesome but
My crewmembers took me away from the stage, hiding me in the back. I looked to one of them, a man wearing a bandanna. “What the hell is going on?” I said to him. “Do you know anything?”
The flutter of wind in my ear whipped against my skin. Gunshots now rattled and took over the night, as many bullets as there were stars. Crying, lots of crying. People lying down on the ground, but no longer to rest. Their souls going up to heaven somewhere, or wherever you might think souls go. Maybe they didn’t even exist.
“We’ve got to go and hide,” the man said. There was something very strange about him smiling in the middle of a horror show. Really? “Come with me.”
Suddenly, all of my crew surrounded me, swarmed me, and held onto me. A bag went over my head. A black bag that cut off the light.
Then I felt a sharp knife against my spine. One that pushed me forward and against the ground.
When my knees hit the floor, a rattling shook my world. An earth-shattering rumble that started out in the forest and swept across the land. Like an earthquake, it made my body turn to liquid, and my feet completely unsteady. I could do no more than to lay as if I were dead, feigning interest in life.
Smoke curled around my nose. Even if I had a black sack around my face, I smelled smoke.
An industrial smoke, the kind you might find in a factory of some sorts, an explosion maybe.
A huge bombing.
HENRIETTA
April 2 nd would forever be remembered in world history as the bloodiest event in Korean history.
Okay, maybe not as big as some of the wars gone past.
But shit, there were hundreds of people who died in the bombing—what was called the Great Massacre later on.
From CNN to Fox News, you could see all of the figureheads talking and talking about the bloodiness, the ruthlessness, and the surprise.
No one expected a bombing in the middle of a concert anywhere. Especially Jong-soo’s, who had been a beloved popstar and singer for some time.
Whenever you turned on to the Korean channels, there were people crying, people clutching their children, people yelling about the travesty, “how anybody could do such a thing like this…”
In days that followed, a bunch of news article detailed the evidence of what had happened.
Who caused the bombing?
Speculation indicated terrorists of some sort. Terrorists from the Middle East, but that seemed like too easy a target.
Everyone in those days wanted to blame the Middle East for everything.
And it was unlikely.
The Far East did not have the same kind of social capital other countries like the United States did. It didn’t really make much sense to target Korea—what message would there be to spread? To send?
There wasn’t any.
Korea wasn’t even on the map for a terrorist’s mind. In other words: there was little to gain in Korea, politically or otherwise.
Then rumors swirled about a plot coming out of Malaysia or Indonesia, which could make more sense, if you really stretched the facts.
It had almost 0 tensions between any of those countries and Korea.
Really? Malaysia and Korea? Indonesia and Korea? Were people this ignorant in the West? Seriously, Korea and those countries had not much of history at all together.
At least not in the same vein like Japan and Korea, or China and Korea, or even the Philippines and Korea.
Some even speculated the people responsible for the Great Massacre were those who made Malaysia Airline planes disappear.
Which sounded plausible, but still ridiculous. No evidence had shown up from the Malaysia Airline planes, so how could we possibly say anything about the bombings and Korea? That didn’t makes sense one bit either.
Especially with all of the evidence laying around at the concert grounds. The wreckage of bombs and body parts. Gruesome but
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