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Hope City Diaries: Wartime RoutineHope City Diaries: Wartime Routine
April 21, 2099
I'm under my tree again. Living at school is becoming routine. We wake up, eat breakfast, and attend classes. We have a quick lunch break followed by more classes, then a few hours of free time, another meal, homework, and lights out.
Nothing too special, if you ignore the fact that we never go home. Also, there is the war. Most of us are used to it by now. After dark is the worst. During the day, the city seems peaceful, almost normal. Everything changes with the sunset. Gunfire echoes through the night and occasionally the sounds of explosions echo the distance. Our principal says it is just the guards along the battle line jumping at strange noises and shooting at shadows of their own imaginations.
She is trying to help us kids stay calm, but I know better. My brother's friend, Deshawn, stopped by the school during breakfast for a quick visit and to bring a message from my brother. He says that the invaders have moved the
Lespoir: Supply TruckScrounger's Ink: Supply Truck
April 20, 2099
A battered truck pulled wearily into the ruins of Old City. The trek from Lespoir had been rough driving, mostly off road. No road or highway connected the cities; there was nothing but faint animal trails, a dry river bed, and miles of rock and uneven, broken earth. Few travelers made the trip, and only those who had need.
The truck stopped by a dammaged B-545 jumbo jet. Deshawn "EarthHawk" Hajari stepped out of the drivers seat. He stretched long, tired arms and legs, then walked to the entrance hatch carved into one side of the fuselage.
"Ngozi? You in there?"
With a sigh, Deshawn opened the hatch and took a quick look around. The inside was clean enough, only slightly cluttered. Papers and random objects lay around in loose piles on the desk, shelves and floor. A gray chinchilla sat near a window, pouncing at dust motes. There was no sign of his friend.
Stepping back outside, DeShawn cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted
Lespoir: War Memorandum #1M E M O R A N D U M
To: President Cohen
From: General J. Flint
Subject: Port Lune Defenses
It is with regret that I relay this information to you. After nearly twelve days of fighting, the Port Lune facilities have been completely occupied by Capturan troops. My command staff personally led the rearguard as our Security Forces made their retreat. So far, the Capturan forces have not made a drive further inland. Our reconnoissance shows they are using the port to gather additional troops and supplies.
Sir, we must significantly increase our military forces. At present, we have sufficient personnel to guard our most critical government and military locations, yet the remainder of the city will fall. The next strike could overthrow Lespoir in a single battle. Urgent attention is required to determine options for the prevention or weakening of such an attack.
[signed] General Joclyn Flint
Lespoir Government Security Forces
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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