The Boy Who Can't Die.

𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑬𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒚 1

(-The following, if it is not in italics, is in the form of journal writting. So you are reading a journal inside of my book.-)

Today, my pa got me a new journal! The cover has this nice sleek apperance, with a golden P51 Mustang on it! Pa is really workin hard for us, and our country. He doesn't come home often, sayin he is workin on this really big project. He always seems to have this grin on him, somethin excited about him. He doesn't seem to be let down from nothin. But sometimes I catch him all frustrated, yelling something about the containment not being good enough. How the radiation was still leaking. I don't understand what he was going on about, but I hope he gets it done!

I hope he gets home nice and safe. If this project really is important, the Japs might target us. 1940 is the year, and we are right in the middle of this World War. We got dragged into it after Japan bombed our boys in Pearl Harbor. Pa was tellin me about it, and how we managed to beat them at Midway. I hope I get old enough to enlist one day! Pa would be so proud of me...

At this point, the writing becomes a jumbled mess, filled with cartoonish drawings of a plane. The wings curling up, the rotor blades resembling balloon animals. Words are scribbled onto it, as the childish handwriting stands out. The life of a child in World War 2 was interesting, to put it mildly. And even more for the child of  J. Robert Oppenheimer. Yes, the father of atomic warfare. The book weighs heavily in his hand, as he exhales. He was sitting in what appeared to be ruins of a once-proud manor, sitting on a rickety wooden log. What once was a manor is now a bombed-out shell, the book one of the few things surviving. He takes a slow look around, standing to his full height. A black hoodie is wrapped around his waist, his plain white t-shirt standing out. He wears a pair of broken-in jeans, and mud-stained boots. 

He looks roughly 19 years old, with shaggy black hair. His bright blue eyes was that of a glistening ocean, the brightest pale blue you have ever seen. Yet he had glossy black eyebrows. He flips the page of the journal, as he continued reading.

I remember breakfast this morning, as I remember my ma yellin "ROBERT, GET YOUR SORRY BUTT OVER HERE!" I was practically bouncing in my seat at this. It was always funny to see my proud father get belittled by his wife. Ma took nothin from no one, she was the one and only Katherine Oppenheimer Vissering. She was takin a few sick days from work, complaining about the dreadful conditions. I was digging into my fluffy scrambled eggs, concerned for how she was handling the frying pan. Pa kept on checkin his watch. Work was super important to him, as he kept on sayin "This is going to help us win the war!". I hope it does! The dang Japs attacked our harbor! My best friend had an Uncle on that ship! He never made it off...said he died while throwing men overboard for safety. 


Anyways! Ma kept on yellin at him, sayin stuff about how he needed to start cleanin things around the house. He made a few excuses, before finally crumbling to her. Pa was always a sucker for Ma. That's why they were happily married. Though I'm only a little bit worried, work seems to be makin them stressed. Ah, who knows about that! I'm just a kid!

Well after I got home from school today, somethin odd happened to me. I didn't mention it to Ma because that would be a little weird. I was walkin home from school and I tripped over this rock. I was crossin this little creek, and my head slammed into the rocks. The thing is, I barely felt it. I got really dizzy for a few seconds, then nothin. Not even a drop of blood. Weird, right?