So it was just a gloomy day when all the trees in the neighborhood had glanced to a stand still. The only thing moving was me as I went through the neighborhood scavenging for food. The ground was laid to rest as the bombs flew over us 5 years ago in the war that drenched as to hell. I could still feel the rumble of the airplanes flying over us, feeling the roar of the engines pass us by.

      This war was that that left us to survive on each other and taking from one another. I wondered what the President was thinking when he signed the release to attack a piece of land that had no name? This land was rich with minerals and fuel that everyone wanted. The troops landed on the fresh soil and started to attack one another as if it was a free-for-all. The President wasn’t the only one who wanted a piece of the action. Countries from around the world wanted it; they craved it like cheese for rats!

      The war fought on and the lands and minerals started depleting from the underground sources. Everyone started to blame each other and one another; they knew what had to be done. It was a stupid idea, for no one knew what each other had only to look at their empty hands. Countries started to invade one another and life was starting to become that of warfare for everyday life. People crying for the ones they had loved, there was no stopping the ever-ending cycle of death.

      That’s when our giant piece of land turned into the small piece of dirt it once stood to be. Our homes turning into rundown caves, for we had no where else to go. Life was in ruins and time was of the essence. Everyone wanted our land, and started attacking from the hills. At night, gunfire would streak across the night sky like shooting stars and moans would be heard from the far. Days turned into dark filled nights only to see the green and yellow hazes of fumes that trenched into the streets. People started to die and all try to get out, but where was anyone going to go?

      Lands were already taken and there was no hope left. No shoulder to cry on, no one to tell of the fun that used to be known as the best place to live. Now I’m the only one here to tell of this story, for I am the only one to have to seen it with my own eyes and ears. Now, who is going to read this, but myself?

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