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Group theme: Promise
Italy
Doorway
Sacrifice
125 word long sentence

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hands. She sighed and put the knife down. This was not the first time her thoughts distracted her from cooking. Lately, all she thought about was her husband. He was one of Hitler’s right hand men as the chief of distribution of propaganda. Little did he know that she was also a major distributor of propaganda, but for the resistance. Every night she snuck out and distributed propaganda to German soldiers’ houses and urged them to desert the army. Despite the little effect it had, she continued to do this every night. She knew that it was her husband’s fault that her efforts were wasted; the propaganda the Fuhrer fed the soldiers was far too effective. However, she continued supporting the movement she believed in. Everyday she faced the fact that she lived with her organization's greatest adversary, her own husband. Several times already she had considered assassinating her husband. But she could never bring herself to do it because of a promise she made years ago. She had promised to be by his side no matter what, through thick and thin. Her loyalties were with her husband but her heart was with the resistance. Her thoughts swirled around in her head in confusion but it was soon cleared as she set herself upon the task of planning her midnight route. The steady chopping sound was back once more.

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-Germany
-Proximity to major political leader

-Living with a decision to act in a way that violated one’s morals

-3rd Person Limited, Past tense

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Japan
Meal
Meaningfully includes a bowl, shoe, and portrait
Exactly 25 words of dialogue

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“Giuseppe Marcello, you have been arrested for plotting against the State.”

Those were the words I heard at midnight just a couple of days ago, directly after I had sent a telegram to my friends in France about my unhappy, propaganda-infested life (if one could even call that life) and my dissatisfaction: with the Italy I live in now, with the devil Benito Mussolini as the country’s vicious dictator, and with the cold ghost of fear that ties up my limbs and sews shut my mouth, these words I let speak true and I kept the fear away, until, of course, the Police—the stupid and ignorant and brainwashed Police—barraged the door and, once inside, everything else with their glorious machine guns until they found the culprit afraid but unsurprised within the last room in the hallway.

I write this in the light of a flickering lightbulb down the hallway. The guard will know of this paper and will execute me for this document. There is little chance for this note to leave the prison unscathed, not to mention the one-in-a-million chance against getting the message to the world. But I will make the sacrifice. I took the chance.

“Citizens of mighty Italy, we present to you a democratic sympathizer. Let all of Italy know that these necessary severe measures must be taken in order to make us great.”

With that, two men drag me to the guillotine. The blade comes down and I wish for the truth to be known.

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Takahide had promised his mother early that morning before school that he would drop off his broken shoe at Mr. Toyoki’s shop on his way home. He had followed the wide, newly paved roads from his elementary school and was soon heading homeward, having left his shoes with the nice elderly man whom his family had known for almost a decade.

“How are your studies?”, Mr. Toyoki had asked, smiling fondly at the boy

“Good”, the timid boy had replied

“What do they teach you children nowadays?”

“The great conquests of our revered Emperor, sir”, Takahide returned the smile

“Oh”, the old man’s grin slowly faded

Takahide quickly dropped his smile as well, leaving barefoot. He walked past shops and continued through a group of high school boys practicing marching drills, finally turning onto the familiar dirt path. Takahide washed his feet before entering his home and beginning his studies.

“These fierce warriors defended our great nation with honor, dedicating themselves to their lords with unwavering conviction and willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good…”

Takahide closed his textbook at the call of his mother for dinner. His mother had just set the bowls on the table while his younger brother and sister were playing on the floor below the portrait of Emperor Hirohito. His father entered and they all took their seats. The family all closed their eyes and said their prayers. The same prayer rang in choruses across Japan. “Long live the Emperor”, Takahide repeated.

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India
Before, during or after following a crime
Present tense, 1st person
Divided family

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omniscient
USA
Love Story
Domestic Moment

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I stare at my hands covered in dried blood. My wife stares at my hands. My son stares at my hands. My hands broke the promise they were supposed to keep for Bapu. My hands punched, scratched and slapped the body in front of me. The hands grabbed the nearest sharp object and pierced a human’s heart. My wife tells me Bapu could be dead because of what my hands did, yet my son tells me they did the right thing. Allowing my hands to take control has divided my family. I promised Bapu peaceful, nonviolent noncooperation. My hands are proof of who I have become. My wife leaves to get water to wash my hands and I see my son go after her. I hear my wife say, “He promised Bapu,” and my son says, “I know he did, but his hands did not.” Suddenly, my mind goes back to the day Bapu told me, “To gain independence, we must be worthy of it,” and I wonder if I am worthy of it. If my hands are worthy of it. My spirit is with my wife and Bapu, but my hands are with my son. Do I follow my spirit or my hands? Do I follow my wife and Bapu or do I follow my own son?

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He dreaded the day that had finally come. “Has it happened yet?” he heard every day and he was sure it would be longer until the answer was yes. He walked down the crowded streets seeing people with the same heartbroken face as he had on. He walked towards his door. His girlfriend stood inside; jazz music on loud and cooking dinner with the last of the food they had. As he walked inside, his girlfriend understood the solemn face he had on. She started to cry and he felt a pang of disappointment. Thoughts raced through his mind. How did I let this happen? What did I do wrong? There had been wads of cash that were saved through months of hard labor and watching his friends get fired before he was, all for the perfect ring. The ring would have to be sold or else she couldn’t live a happy life. He moped over to where his girlfriend cried. He couldn’t ask her now. He wanted her to be happy not be chained down as his wife and have no money. “I’m sorry,” he finally said. “It’s not your fault.” She replied with a fake smile. He started towards the door to find another job. “Yes,” his girlfriend said. He turned around with utter confusion. There she sat; the ring on her finger. “I would rather suffer and be poor with you than have money and live without you. I promise you. My answer is yes.”