So far this has been the best writing in this thread. I love it ( As someone who works in a manufacturing Fab. )

12 years ago it happened. It was my birthday and the sirens had started right after I blew out my candles. My family and friends were all there in the living room with me. I had gotten both a puppy and a kitty for presents, and mom had baked me a fudge vanilla cake. We went from celebrating to hiding under the tables and furniture as the world outside shook with fire and smoke.

Dad dragged us out into the root cellar in the garden, as many of us kids that could fit. Some of the elder boys and girls too. For a long time we sat in the dark while the world above us tore itself asunder. I did my best to keep the dust and rocks outside of puppies eyes while my sissy held mittens. In the dark with his wet little nose against mine, I named him Brave.

After a time, it all stopped. The noise, the quaking. The falling dust. Some of the elder boys went out of the cellar and reported that most of the street had collapsed around us. I fed Brave carrots form the cellar while we waited. Eventually after what felt like forever the adults came back. They had hid somewhere else. Some of the children were taken aside by their mothers and fathers. My mother appeared for sister and I. Dad, dad got hurt helping someone else.

I’m 18 now, and most of the neighborhood has been rebuilt. I’d learned later that bombs were the cause of what happened. Bombs and war. I sat on the front step of the house watching some of my friends play ball in the street. My parents could be heard, bustling around and every-once and a while Mittens would come check on us from a window. To make sure we were still there. And my goodest boy Brave, munched on carrots by my side.