Good news bad news

This is my 20 story, signalling 20 days of school, for me. Just thought to let you know.

Harder to lose

Harder to buy

This is the land of

Sugar high

            The poem plays in my head as my fingers start to do their daily dainty work, each evening. This was patching up the soldiers’ belongings, or also known as their clothes, and once in a while one of the items that their mother, sister, or sweetheart would send in. And each night, I would silently try and not cry, as pictures of my mother and little sisters come to my mind. Oh, it was hard work, for the women in the war, always worrying, cleaning, and taking care of stuff. It seems as if it will never leave a lady’s life in the near future. It was always too much work, and barely any free days.

            “Oh stop complaining Anita, there are others who has it way worse,” said Mother Lila as if reading my thoughts. I don’t bother to look up at her over the fire, as my fingers patch up this nasty rip on one soldier’s uniform.

            “I ain’t complaining, Mother Li, I was just… thinking about how life is hard and-”

            “In a complaining tone, thinking or not? Yeah right, I can hear ya complaining a mile away, even if it is in your head,” she says in her strict grandmotherly way. I sigh, and roll my eyes a bit, reprimanding myself a bit for doing it again. “But anyways…” she trails off a bit as if a bit unsure of how to go on. I start to put my guard up, preparing myself for the worst. War does that to you, it gives you a nasty surprise when you were expecting one to be good and hopeful. After a while, though you’ll get used to it, even if it took a year or two.

            “The boss…” uh oh, if it’s something about the doctor then it’s going to be bad really bad. “Are you listening Anita?” she says bringing me back to reality, just as my mind was about to go to the worst case scenarios at what might of happened to the doctor.

            “Yeah, I’m listening,” I say giving her a quick glance before going back to my mending.

            “Well then, the boss said ya can take a day off a day after tomorrow,” she says quickly, in an almost grump voice but underneath it I can catch just a hint of gratitude.

            “Oh thank you, thank you!” I yell, suppressing the urge to jump up and down and give her a peck on the cheek.

            “Don’t thank me, thank the boss, and he’s got something else for ya…” she trails off uncertainly again, but I didn’t notice because I was excited about having a day off again. “He um, said that… Your brother,” she takes a deep breath before muttering the last word so quietly that I couldn’t hear.

            “Come again?” I ask my beating heart still excited.

            “I said your brother um… died?” she said. Everything started to crash down, onto me as I realize why the doctor even gave me a day off. My brother dead and he was the only other lifeline I had here, without him…. I don’t bother thinking about the stuff that might happen now. In fact, I don’t bother to notice everything around me anymore, once I heard that he died, I just shut down. In the distance, I can hear Mother Lila screaming my name, and someone else, someone familiar, and yet not familiar. But I don’t hear their words behind the screams, or the scrambling feet, because I can feel myself being welcomed into the darkness.

           

            

There's something in the punch

I got tired yesterday, and didn't feel like typing my story up and posting it here. So ta da her it is.

            Gowns, lights, and music fill the air. And joys of laughter can be heard everywhere. It is the annual Midsummer Eve ball, and everyone is laughing, and having the time of their life dancing. That is everyone except me. Their laughter sounds false, the cheeriness too cheery. Their minds forced to look at everything around them, and not really allowed to think about the current situation. The war. The Nazis are winning badly; Hitler’s power was quickly slipping away. Everyone was silently freaking out at what will happen if Hitler stopped becoming president. Will it possibly be another depression? France started to take over Germany. The possibilities are endless, and yet I wasn’t thinking about all that. No I was thinking about him, my ex.

            My down to earth, belonging in the mantle, and should never to be seen again, ex. He was smiling cheerfully while talking to some important delegates, his wife by his side acting bored. She caught me staring at them, and started to use her icy glare on me. I roll my eyes, and turn back to the punch bowl, the dark red liquid reminding me of spilled blood. The blood that caused the ending between her husband and me. That jerk ward ex. I feel a pair of unfamiliar wrap around my shoulders and I look up staring into a pair of bright devilish blue eyes. “A-a-are you okay?” he murmurs, concern clear in his voice. I nod and force a smile, so the beating of his heart can slow down, but it doesn’t. And that saddens me, though I force it out of my system, so he wouldn’t know. I wanted him to be happy, even if it was going to end up depressing me.

            “Good,” he says and one of his easygoing smiles is back on his lips. “W-would you want some punch?” and I nod, not realizing at how thirsty I am. I see his arm, grab two cups putting it on the table and pouring the red punch into it. He does it so easily, all with one arm still around my shoulder. Once he finishes, I grab a punch, and so does he. We clink our glasses together carelessly, and we drink. The cold fluid flows down the hollowness of my throat, and it tastes weird, unusual. But it was too late to turn back now. The liquid quickly settles into my stomach, and I can feel little butterflies to form in its place. My heart was beating faster, I felt dizzy and lightheaded, and most of all happy. While there was still one corner of my mind that was clear of it all, it was warning me of something but I couldn’t hear it. I look over at Low, and see the same look in his eyes that’s probably in mine as well; he smiles a happy lopsided smile, and says three words that make my body feel buttery all over.

            “I love you.”

            “I love you too,” I say, and this time I realized what that clear part of my mind was saying to me all along. It’s all fake. 

The War of P.E

While I was walking around the gym with my friends (couldn't sit down, and I didn't feel like playing any of the three different sports). We nearly got hit with a soccer ball with a couple of times. Once or twice with a basketball, and not much with an hockey puck. It reminded me of dodge ball, which I'm glad we didn't do yet...

Balls flying, kids running, and screams were heard everywhere.

This was the war of P.E.

            It all started with a ‘simple’ game of dodge ball, which still hasn’t stopped. So far, the score was 101-95, and I was on the losing side. Food was hard to come by, and it was only for the survivors. The people that couldn’t get out the door each day simply didn’t eat. There always seemed to be an unlimited amount of balls. Each time they replace it, well let’s just say it wasn’t regular nerf balls anymore. But it was starting to turn into light wooden balls; soon it might turn into light metal balls. The winners, gets the best protection, while the losers gets the remains. Bruises were starting to become a regular thing.

            Each and every day, everyone goes to school to get ready for another war of dodge ball. Each and every day, they say we’re learning math and all that, but it seemed more like a game of survival. Plus more like training to be a soldier. Once the clock ticks down to three o’clock, we’re free to go. Go home to our ‘tents’ and tell our parents of the news that was happening on the war each day. And if some of us were lucky, we might get sponsored, or at least given some money, so we can bribe the principal not to let us play today’s game. It usually worked, but it usually meant having to work in the infirmary to treat the person that has the most serious bruise. Rarely was there anyone with a broken arm or leg. If there was, the person responsible for it was thrown into jail for a couple of days. Only were they allowed to get out to go home, to get his or her parents to sign the paper saying what he or she done.

            There was just one rule and that was survive, which I should be doing right now. Currently I’m hiding behind the bleachers, which are where the minor injuries are treated, as well as the people who got out for that round. I should be out there right now, throwing balls, trying to win for my team, but I couldn’t because I have a secret to tell. A secret that I shall burn up just as soon as school lets out for the day. A secret that none of my team members should know. And that is…

            I love one of the peoples on the enemy’s side.

A person, I shall not name just in case someone happens to pick up the paper I was writing. And it is a person that is one of the strongest of them all. And a person that was dead set on killing me, or at least making me severely injured so I can’t play for the rest of the year. And he seemed like the type of person willing to get expelled for it as well.

            But why?