Page and a half, 1023 words.
I was nine when the war with the Others started. It was an unnecessary one, I know for a
fact; we’d been living with them so peacefully for so many years. No one knows how it
really started, just that they wanted to completely wipe us out. This, diary, is my
“Kira! We’re going to be late!” I screamed to my sister as she tried to keep up,
tripping over her new dress. She was three years younger than me, only eight at the time
compared to my eleven. Nonetheless, when we entered the seemingly crystal and pastel
station, we were awestruck. It was all glass and metal, the banged-up trains still looking
like streamlined silver bullets. People were running to and fro, yelling and buying food
for their trips. It seemed like the war was nearly nonexistent in the candy-coated
amphitheater, with the exception of the men and women in the tight black jumpsuits that
were ready to go into battle.
It was then I found that the Way - the extremely old train that could take us to our
Grandmother’s home - would leave in an hour, and we had to be there forty-five minutes
“Kira! We aren’t here to enjoy the view!” I yelled, and took her hand. She started
crying, so I picked the small girl up, let her bury her face in the back of my head and
mess up my neat red curls while I piggybacked her into the terminal. I nearly ran into a
Mutant - a regular person with a…different feature. He had wings, it was quite
“Sorry,” I muttered as I sped up to a sprint. Checking the giant holographic clock,
we had only five minutes. Luckily, we were at the terminal, so I grabbed our tickets and
got onto the rusted yet sleek train. Our cabin was refurbished, so everything from the
wine-colored seats to the spotless white carpet was brand new. It seemed first class, but
oh no - we’d glimpsed a first class cabin. They were amazing.
I let Kira sit by me so I could style her pale turquoise hair. It made her remind me of
the Japanese’s virtual singer -- Miku something.
Grabbing her hair gently, I noticed that it was so greasy it was soft. At least we had a
brush in my purse. I took it out, and as I started to run the plastic bristles through her
hair, the door swung open. It was a man who was seemingly in a military jumpsuit, but it
was in the dark blue of an officer.
“Hello, ladies.” He said, staring into my amber eyes so it made me feel
uncomfortable. “Where is your escort this evening.”
I averted his stare, then asked with a hostile tone, “What do you care?”
“I’m with the border patrols. May I see your papers?”
I glared at the man, who had then presented his badges. Officer Edmonton, from the
Southern Colonies. Finding the papers that proved we were legal citizens folded in my
pocket, I presented them, then he scrutinized them as my sister and I held our breaths.
What if he thought they were forged?
“Your sister, Kira, she’s a mutant?” he asked, looking at her. It was really her
eyes that gave it away; irises being a pure silver, no apparent blood vessels.
“Yes, sir.” I replied, “She was born without eyeballs. These are robotic.”
He gave our papers one last look, then walked away, slamming the door shut in front of
the conductor. I got up and reopened it, apologizing dearly before handing him our
“S’right,” he drawled with a dip of his head. “That officer’s been doin’ that
for days now.” He promptly turned and left, his wiry blonde hair peeking out of his blue
cap. The door snapped shut, and my sister and I both felt a strong jolt as the train
started to move forward. After that, the movement became fluid and we could get up and
walk around without falling.
After about an hour, we were only a quarter of the way there.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, taking out my money card. She nodded, and stood up.
“Let’s go find the supper car.”
Ten minutes and three wrong cars later, we found the supper car. It was on the decline,
but it felt homey enough. Ordering a simple soup and sandwich meal, they took around 10
credits from my budget of 1000.
“Grandmother said that credits used to be called dollars, when she was a little
girl.” said Kira, tilting her head to the side in contemplation. We were already sat
down, waiting for the server to bring us our meals.
“That’s nice,” I said, not really caring.
“You’re not listening, are you?”
I turned to her, then put a sweet smile on my face. “Of course I am, Kira. Just, you
know that I get tired when we travel. Ooh, look! Our food’s here!”
A lady in a white dress and a ponytail brought us our food on china, took a bow, then
“Thanks,” we said together before digging in. The soup was salty, the sandwich had a
big glob of ketchup on it, but altogether it was okay. Soon, we finished and were ready
to go back to our cabin, and I was looking forward to napping.
As we were walking back to our cabin, it seemed like the passengers were in a state of
unrest, but really, we're as safe as we'd be in a bomb shelter, or underground. Kira and I
just talked freely, walking through the smoker's cabin where the older men played cards,
and then the community cabin where the young women spoke. We stopped to exchange
pleasantries, then left.
Soon, we arrived back at our private cabin, so we pulled out a seat to form a narrow
traveling bed. I took a blanket from my bag and bundled up as she watched the countryside.
I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.