Imagine

I wrote this story because of a geography project and now im really glad i did. i hope everyone reads it enjoys it and please read to the end because its definetly worth it even if it is a slog in the middle.

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7. Before

I was ready. It was finally time; I was going out onto the battlefield. To fight. Not for what I believed in but just because I had been made to do so. It had been a long six weeks of hard, unfair and cruel training. That had left scars on my back and bruises all over my body. I was a different person, a very different person. At the beginning I thought I could hold out. I thought I could keep my beliefs. I only just about did it. My only comfort was thinking about how after training Florence and I would badmouth all the teachers. We did at first, but after a while we didn't. We had more and more awkward spaces between our conversations. It wasn't our friendship that was dying out, it was us. But one thing stayed the same every night before we went to bed we make   would make up a story together. I would start. The she would go then me again. We soon stopped telling each other when to carry on we just knew. At the beginning of our enslavement we would tell fantasy stories, but they got darker and darker as our life did. They were wistful as well about what would happen if we were never kidnapped or if we escaped. We talked a lot about our families, if only to keep our memories alive. I just kept thinking to myself. Why did I have to walk that way home? There were many other ways but I just happened to choose that one, if only I had chosen another way home. We tried to keep the endings happy, but on the night before we were moved into the trenches. We couldn't. She said “Then they all died in sadness,” I could see she was close to tears. But she looked hopefully at me, hoping I could find a way out of the story but I couldn't keep it in any longer. So I said softly “The End” and we both fell sobbing on the floor of the hut. Life wasn't worth Living and I wasn't positive I would survive.

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