April 10, 2110

The atmosphere was unnervingly eerie and the birds were unusually quiet this morning. The radio played a familiar tune by some group that called themselves the Stazi, as I sat and ate a dry piece of toast with a tall glass of milk for my breakfast. I could feel that something was off. You know, that feeling you get when you know one of your friends is keeping something from you? That feeling. I couldn’t quite pinpoint what was the matter. But I continued getting ready for school or else I would be late for class, and my teacher had a no tardy tolerance policy. Not even a minute late. Sheshh, talk about unreasonable.

Just as I was walking upstairs, I heard a loud bang on my front door. My hair on the back of my neck stood up as I cautiously wondered who could possibly want something from me this early in the morning. In that very instance, the lights cut out completely. Everything was dark and somber. The world felt like it was moving in slow motion as adrenaline coursed through my veins. More knocking on my door. And then I felt it. The air felt as though It had been compressed and then quickly expanded, and I was sent flying backwards by a couple of meters.

Dazed and confused, I sat there contemplating what could have possibly happened. Maybe our greatest fear had finally manifested into something real. Could it be true? There had been whispers of it as political tensions between the first world powers heightened, but we knew very well that the dangers of war would damn our society. Our technologies far too powerful for our own human limitations.

As I sat there still frazzled with the string of odd events that happened this morning, my mother flung the front door open and rushed over to me. She briefly embraced me and then demanded that I go and immediately pack only my most essential belongings. She told me that she would explain later, but in the meantime, she told me that my Father and my brother would meet us in exactly 10 minutes and that I needed to be ready by then. So of course, I scurried off to my room, packed the first bag I could dig out of my closet with my toiletries, a couple of pictures, the necklace my best friend got for me, a blanket, mister Oinkers, and a couple of clean outfits. I grabbed my pillow in one hand, and my little teacup poodle, Coco, in the other. My mother had managed to pack a luggage and a cooler, which was stuffed to the brim with food. Perfect timing. My father just pulled into the driveway as we were closing the door behind us for what I didn’t know at that moment, would be the last time ever.

My father spoke in his “seriously business man” voice, which is when I knew that whatever was going to come out of his mouth next, was not going to be pleasant news.

Washington D.C, Atlanta, Dallas, Los Angeles, and Chicago had all been attacked by outside forces. And more attacks were expected. My father told us that this was just the beginning of the third world war. Everything that we had feared. Neither my parents nor my grandparents had see the face of war before, however, they had heard the horror stories of how gruesome and ugly war was from their grandparents, my great, great grand parents, the survivors of the second great world war. Or what we refer to now, as the era of darkness.

We drove through the night. We drove through dark tunnels, sharp and narrow paths, and unfamiliar terrain, but we couldn’t escape the images of the monstrous fireballs which were only illuminated by the stark contrast to darkness. It was surreal. That’s when I clung to Coco and realized that we were never going to go home again. We didn’t have a home…we were now the prisoners of this War.

This was now our life.