Water Wars

This is a story I am in the process of writing. It's a post apocalyptic story that follows four different people's lives, and how they effect each other during the 18th World War. It's story about love, sacrifice, strength, bravery, and corrupted government. It's a story that tells how things turn out when you conform or not conform to the government. It's a story that you should read.


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2. Arianna Eloisa Belina Peris

I’ve been sitting in the sand so long I am halfway buried. The sand is wedged between my toes, I can feel it in my pores. I have run my fingers through the sand so many times it is trapped in clumps under my nails. I know I should go back but it feels so good out here, alone in the warm sand. And the view is so beautiful, with the ancient buildings and sculptures, all made of beautiful pearly-white stone that you can’t find anywhere else. I know I should find shade, the sun is so strong, but I have been here so long it wouldn’t help, the damage must already be done. Somehow I find the energy to stand and I begin my long walk home. You see, when the water first began to disappear there was a lot more land to be accounted for. The Monopoly anticipated wars brewing and claimed all of that land to use as camps to train armies. But the people got mad and overthrew that Monopoly to create their own. With the new Monopoly they divided the whole world into 26 plots, one for each letter of the alphabet, they numbered all of the cities that they called “beds,” and they decided all of the biggest beds, entitling them as “Primes.” I was born in I 624 15 years ago. Plot I is one of the poorest plots. It was part of the new land discovered when the oceans began to dry. Bed 624 was built just North of the ancient city of Atlantis. Atlantis is the closest thing we have to a Prime in Plot I, but no one here wanted to re build Atlantis to make it qualify. We all like it much better in its antique state. No one lives in Atlantis either, all the Beds were built North to keep Atlantis preserved. One of these days, if we lose a war and the Plots who beat us want to, they could take Atlantis and our whole Plot right out from under our feet. But because we never made it an official Prime none of the other Plots know or care about Atlantis. Although I am only 15 I might as well be 20, I do enough work to support myself anyway. I would too, if it weren’t for Rory and Popa. Four years ago my baby sister, Aurora Nerissa Peris was born and my mother, Anastasia Allo Peris died. She died giving birth to little Rory. At first I was really sad, when Mimi died, but I had to take care of Rory and because Rory was born at the same time Mimi died in a way it’s kind of like a piece of her is in Rory. Mimi was a very beautiful lady with a full head of dark chocolate hazel curls. Everyone tells me I look just like my mother but I don’t see it. My hair is straight as sticks and the color of cinnamon but sometimes in the right light it looks sort of ginger or scarlet. I like it when my hair is ginger-scarlet colored. It makes me look less plain. As for the curls, I didn’t inherit any of those genes. I wish I had though, then I wouldn’t just have to rely on the light to not look plain. Rory looks just like what I imagine Mimi must have looked like when she was born, with the same full head of chocolate hazel curls. I guess I did get some of Mimi’s genes because I do have one curl. It falls just below my left ear. I twist it around my finger when I think and I bounce it when I’m bored but other than that it doesn’t do much to make me less plain and most of the time it’s just hidden under my straight hair.  I used to be really sad when Mimi died but now I am not sorry she is dead. I don’t care anymore, I’m just fine without her now. I don’t need a mother anymore, but Rory will and I’m mad at my mother  for leaving us all alone. Mad at her for leaving Rory all alone. We still have Popa but he isn’t the same. He had no idea what to do with Rory when she was born. So Rory became all my responsability. I fed her, and dressed her, and I tried to name her something Mimi would like. Mimi was very particular about names, especially when naming me. Popa wanted to name me Anastasia, after my mother but she refused. Mimi didn’t like hand-me-down names, they weren’t original or special enough to give a child. So mom chose Arianna. That sounded like Anastasia but it was more original and different so we wouldn’t get confused for each other. I guess thats not a problem now. My full name is Arianna Eloisa Belina Peris. Its a very long name and too fancy for such a plain girl like me. I feel silly having a name so fancy when really I’m just plain. Or maybe even below that. Mimi would have told me I wasn’t plain. I’m sure of it. She would have told me I was worth everyone in the world, times a million. And there are a lot of people in this world. Even though my name doesn’t fit me Mimi loved it, that’s what was important. Most people don’t know my name, though, they all know me as Rannie or Isa. Arianna Eloisa Belina Peris isn’t my name anymore. No one remembered. Sure its on my birth certificate and all those other legal papers but it’s never been my name.
I’m just coming into town on the main road, a dusty, salty, groove, bare foot with a shoe in each hand, when I first see the posters. And my heart sinks. There’s going to be another war. World War 18. This isn’t right, we had a war just three years ago. We must have less water than we think. Another war already. This means less food, less time, less people. Rory. Oh no, Rory. The rule in Plot I, since we are the poorest plot, is that anyone able form 10 years of age to 50 years of age must fight in all wars that occur. The last war was just three years ago and I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just turned twelve years old and I was eligible to fight. I would have too, if it weren’t for Rory. She was two at the time. I couldn’t leave her. So I stayed. We lied, said I was only 9, I guess I looked it too, but I don’t now. In fact I look more like an adult than child of only 15, caring for Rory has matured me mentally and physically. Rory. I can’t leave her now, there is no way. And Popa, Popa who has been in three wars already. Popa who was supposed to have been in four, but who took a bullet in the stomach back in 16. This is both a burden and a gift for I had company when the rest of the world went off for the 17 war, but it just created more work trying to keep what was left of the family alive. Popa who has had years to heal,but hasn’t yet, he will not be excused now. Neither will I. So what about Rory? She will die on her own if we go. I tear down the poster and start to run. I run and run and don’t look back. The dirt and salt kicking up behind me in a cloud of dust. It seems like forever until I get home, once I do I run right through the door and straight to my father who has just  gotten home from work and is sitting at the kitchen table. I slam down the poster on the table and gently sit myself down. Popa’s face falls when he reads the headline and I know we are both thinking the same thing. Rory. But he comes up with a solution faster than I do.
   “We’ll leave her with Shina, don’t worry. Now go pack, Rannie. We have to leave in the morning.” Popa says, catching my eye.
   The morning? So soon? I hadn’t even read the rest of the poster. Still I do as my father says and I go straight to my room to pack. I find an old burlap sack and quickly throw in all of my possessions, which isn’t much. A few pairs of clothes, a tough, old leather jacket, my mothers ivory comb and old shoes, and the little blue lace pouch that holds all of my most prized possessions. Together it fills up merely half the bag. I contemplating throwing in the single dress I own or some of my mother’s old skirts but decide against it. There would be no need for skirts or dresses in the army. I leave the room and set my sack on the table. Popa is in his room filling a bag and I can tell by the way he shuffles around the empty drawers that he doesn’t have much to pack either. I walk past his room and head for the nursery which is just a walled up porch. When I was younger it was screened in with metal chicken wire but my mother hated it, she felt like an animal on that porch so she made Popa cut off the wire. He went into town and bought up all the glass things he could. Then he filled up the space with different glass panes. Some of them are wavy, others bumpy, some clouded over in a permanent frost or shattered in a web of cracks. And they are all different shapes, some are square, or rectangular, or circular. A few are even colored a pale rose or powder blue. I’m glad my mother made Popa do that. It looks much prettier in this dull gray house having the miss-matched glass. Now it is late enough that the golden sun shines right through all of those differently formed panes, casting rainbows and shapes onto the floor where Rory is playing. For a minute I am so frozen by the beauty of the room that I just stay in the doorway until she looks up. Then I walk over to her chest of clothes and toys in the corner. We never have never had real toys for Rory, just dolls made of rocks or blocks of stone carved with the letters of the plots she must learn. I sift through her things pulling out the blanket I made her when she was born and lying on top of it the contents of the chest. For her that means a little jumper, a few of my old shirts she wears as dresses, her blocks and doll. Old things to like bibs and diapers that she doesn’t use anymore but we kept anyway. Soon Rory stops playing and walks over to join me. I gather the corners of the blanket in my hand and set it on top of the chest. Turning to Rory I play with her for the last time until late into the night, then I tuck her into bed and kiss her goodnight. Tomorrow Popa and I will leave her with our neighbor, Shina. Shina Lyme is a widow and too old to fight but she has four grown children who will be. Shina is kind, she helped me take care of Rory and Popa during the last war. She is old and gray and brittle. Her eyes turned gray and cold after her husband died but she still has deep wrinkles around them from smiling or laughing that hint of better days when she wasn’t so alone. I feel bad for Mrs. Lyme, she has no one with her to love or look after. I know she will be glad to take Rory in. She will take care of Rory until we get home. If we get home.

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