Hey guys, so I said I would make it up to you and I will, by giving you Koda’s back story, I’ve already written it all out and will post it every couple days for a while, hope you enjoy it!
I play with my 10-year-old sister. I feel too old for this, too old for drawing pictures on the floor but I’m bored of learning war strategies. My tutor has spent hours upon hours on teaching me them. Showing me how to murder multiple enemies at a time, the best way to use men against a larger enemy. I hate it. The idea of killing someone makes my stomach churn as if a war is going on in there. My sister is better at her lessons; she always distributes her men in the best way while my main goal is keeping them safe. I never kill many people in the training games the tutor has made me play.
A loud knock disrupts my thoughts. It’s not the knock of one of my mother’s friends; it’s the knock of an army man. You can tell by the way he quickly raps on the grand oak doors. You can tell by the way it echoes around the house in an eerie way. I get up and beckon for my sister to follow. I realize I still have a pencil clutched in my palm. I keep it there, for whatever reason.
My sister has long dark hair and cold blue eyes; her name is Solstice. I have big dark eyes and brown hair. While my sister looks intelligent, I look kind. I look weak. We trot down the large stairs and walk to the door. My mother stands there, talking to the man that knocked on the door. She wears an elaborate gown, a light shade of pink. Her long hair hangs elegantly down her back. She turns and sees Solstice and I standing there, then shows us with pride to the man.
“This is my son, Koda and my daughter, Solstice.” She gives us both a look and I hold out my hand to shake the man’s hands, his brawny hands that feel like leather. He resembles a tree with his broad shoulders and dark skin. Solstice curtsies with exceptional grace.
“I am here to take your children to training base.” His voice is deep and his words are practiced. Like he’s done this a million times before. I freeze, my joints turning to ice and my heart filling with cold water. He’s here to take us away, to take us to a camp where we learn to kill. All children are taken at certain ages, whatever the government deems proper. When we are taken then we are expected to become soldiers. I once learned of the Second World War with my tutor; he showed me Germany’s army. While Germany didn’t win, they were the smartest, or so my tutor believes. There have been two other world wars since then and we are in the middle of the fifth. I feel like we are Germany and we are training to fight America. But Germany will win this time. Of course there aren’t really countries anymore, just one big one. We are in the middle of a civil war.
“Oh yes. Just let me get someone to pack their-“ My mother is cut off by the man.
“No need. We will provide everything they’ll need.” His stone face betrays nothing but indifference. I tremble as my mother pushes me forward. I grip the pencil so tight that my knuckles grow white. My sister steps forward, her bright eyes gleaming. She’s been waiting for this. She’s been dreaming of this day while I’ve been dreading it. I walk out the door, one step at a time. Counting each time my feet hit the paved groud. I feel tears welling up in my eyes but blink them away; I cannot look weak. I cannot show fear; I have to be strong. I continue to count. My mother waves at us as we go. My lip trembles, she is not sad, she does not care. I always thought maybe once I was taken, then she would care. That would be the only time she would care. But she doesn’t, she doesn’t even shed a tear. It’s understandable; all mothers try not to get attached to their children. They do not get attached because they know it’ll make it harder to say goodbye. But it still feels like I’ve been stabbed in the heart.
The man walks us to a small plane parked outside our large house. 50 steps since I was at the door. 50 steps since I’ve been stolen.