Diary of a Fox
Chapter 1
Entry 1
May 19
Its been a week since America shut down. A week since my family was taken. A week since life was normal. A week since I could eat a three meals a day, and not worry if I'd survive till the next day.
A week.
It feels like forever.
I remember when it began. The electricity went out everywhere. Luckily, we had our back-up battery powered radio. And soon found out it was all over the country. A nation wide blackout. They told us it would be resolved quickly.
I found out,
people lie.
It didn't, and hasn't, come
on since then. Instead of our electricity coming on, it not only stayed off, it wiped out all the United States information. Everything
GONE.
So, what did the President do?
Just about the worst thing he could have.
He handed America over to the British.
Yes, the British.
Turns out, someone in the British power still held a grudge from the Revolutionary War.
I remember coming home from my boyfriend's house. To find out, they were taken to a camp. I found out that there are camps all over the USA. And no one knows which one they were taken to. I remember crying. No pretty princessy-sweet cry. A full out sob. The neighbors ended up coming by, finding the house totally ransacked. They've always been sweet. I feel bad for the way I've always treated them. One year, my friends and I TP'd their house. But they didn't tell my parents. Instead, they talked to me and my friends privately. Offering us a small snack of cookies and Coke. They were kind. And never shouted. We agreed that they'd let this slide as long as we promised to never do it again. But, when they came, I felt vulnerable. They took care of me. They cooked, cleaned, and made sure I was aright. They even provided firewood for our vacant fireplace that was never used. I sat by it, watching the flames dance around, emitting heat around my body. I sulked around for days, trying to starve myself so I could die. Just, die. I've tried to find pills, but, they were taken when the soldiers took my parents. So, starvation seemed like the best idea. But, my neighbors came, and that time, they weren't sweet. They told me what use would it be if I just let all that work to protect me, go to waste? So, I tried to eat. But, I got sick anyways. Turns out, not eating for three days straight can do some bad things to your health. But, over the next four days, they nursed me back to health. Leaving me as healthy as I could.
But, today, I decided to go see my boyfriend, Anthony. I walked down my street. Which looked like a ghost town. I remember it being quiet, almost dead. Even the trees lost their vibrance. Even though the air was hot, chills ran down my body. I found Anthony's house. White picket fence and all. And found their dog, Rufus, lying there, not moving. I walked over there, slowly shaking him. He didn't stir. I could feel his spine, poking out through his usually thick skin. I panicked, running into his house.
"Anthony?!" I called. His house looked like what mine did when I first walked in. Ransacked. Well, not as bad as mine. Since I did most of it.
And worst of all,
empty.
No Anthony. He was gone. So, I ran home. Packed up whatever stuff I could, wrote a quick goodbye note, and ran off. Determined to find what was taken from me.
Determined to kill every British person in my way.
May 19
Its been a week since America shut down. A week since my family was taken. A week since life was normal. A week since I could eat a three meals a day, and not worry if I'd survive till the next day.
A week.
It feels like forever.
I remember when it began. The electricity went out everywhere. Luckily, we had our back-up battery powered radio. And soon found out it was all over the country. A nation wide blackout. They told us it would be resolved quickly.
I found out,
people lie.
It didn't, and hasn't, come
on since then. Instead of our electricity coming on, it not only stayed off, it wiped out all the United States information. Everything
GONE.
So, what did the President do?
Just about the worst thing he could have.
He handed America over to the British.
Yes, the British.
Turns out, someone in the British power still held a grudge from the Revolutionary War.
I remember coming home from my boyfriend's house. To find out, they were taken to a camp. I found out that there are camps all over the USA. And no one knows which one they were taken to. I remember crying. No pretty princessy-sweet cry. A full out sob. The neighbors ended up coming by, finding the house totally ransacked. They've always been sweet. I feel bad for the way I've always treated them. One year, my friends and I TP'd their house. But they didn't tell my parents. Instead, they talked to me and my friends privately. Offering us a small snack of cookies and Coke. They were kind. And never shouted. We agreed that they'd let this slide as long as we promised to never do it again. But, when they came, I felt vulnerable. They took care of me. They cooked, cleaned, and made sure I was aright. They even provided firewood for our vacant fireplace that was never used. I sat by it, watching the flames dance around, emitting heat around my body. I sulked around for days, trying to starve myself so I could die. Just, die. I've tried to find pills, but, they were taken when the soldiers took my parents. So, starvation seemed like the best idea. But, my neighbors came, and that time, they weren't sweet. They told me what use would it be if I just let all that work to protect me, go to waste? So, I tried to eat. But, I got sick anyways. Turns out, not eating for three days straight can do some bad things to your health. But, over the next four days, they nursed me back to health. Leaving me as healthy as I could.
But, today, I decided to go see my boyfriend, Anthony. I walked down my street. Which looked like a ghost town. I remember it being quiet, almost dead. Even the trees lost their vibrance. Even though the air was hot, chills ran down my body. I found Anthony's house. White picket fence and all. And found their dog, Rufus, lying there, not moving. I walked over there, slowly shaking him. He didn't stir. I could feel his spine, poking out through his usually thick skin. I panicked, running into his house.
"Anthony?!" I called. His house looked like what mine did when I first walked in. Ransacked. Well, not as bad as mine. Since I did most of it.
And worst of all,
empty.
No Anthony. He was gone. So, I ran home. Packed up whatever stuff I could, wrote a quick goodbye note, and ran off. Determined to find what was taken from me.
Determined to kill every British person in my way.
update
3/22/14