Young Writers Society

It all began so quickly neither side had time to blink before reacting.

The news was announced one quiet Tuesday night - it had been a quiet Tuesday night where I lived - and for a few minutes nothing had changed. My best friend Natasha was still curled up beside me on the couch, and the movie we'd had been watching played out a little while longer on the screen in front of us.

The only way I knew something had actually happened, that the newsreader had actually interrupted our movie, that we'd received alerts on our comms, was the expression on my friend's face. Shocked. Her comm slipped from her hand and onto the floor, making an unnaturally loud noise.

Natasha reached for my hand. "Ilya," she started, "please tell me we didn't just hear what we heard." She was pleading. I said nothing. In our basement room, we could hear much of what happened above. People were stomping to and fro over our heads. A small child - probably my little sister - burst into tears.

The truth was, I wasn't so sure myself.

I looked down at my comm, flicking the side to make the screen light up. The message shone clearly - "The government has declared a state of emergency. Please do not leave the country." It was from the national service provider. No lie.

"What does it mean?" asked Natasha, her voice hoarse. Her grey eyes were wide. She had always been the dramatic type.

I got off the couch and stepped to the door, pressing my ear against it. I heard snatches of conversation: "-are you sure you're leaving?" and "I never expected this" and a forbidding "the market's going to die now, I know it." I opened the door, my heart thudding against my ribcage, and walked up to the first floor.

"Aunt Agafea?" I called, uncertainty leaking through my words. "What's going on?" The voices had traveled away, to the parlor. "Auntie?"

My older cousin brother - the Mihalovs had three children - glared darkly at me from his seat at the dinner table. "Didn't you hear?" I had, but I didn't believe it. I looked at him, like, we all did.

He swept his dark hair back with one long-fingered hand. "I find it a bit hard to believe myself," he said, a little softer. "Everything's still the same, isn't it?" He shifted his glare to the table. I half-expected a hole to burn through. "Now they'll recruit us all," he continued, even more quietly. "Even you, Isla. Fifteen is old enough."

I swallowed. "Stop saying things like that!" I shrieked, more to comfort myself than to check him. I didn't care about what he did, though what he'd said just underlined my own apprehensions.

My littlest cousin appeared, clutching a tricolor rag. "Make a flag out of this for me, Ilya" she said, cheerfully. "It's just like in the books at school, isn't it?" She smiled at me. "Mamma said the soldiers wouldn't come down to our part of the country." Her blue eyes glittered.

I moved backwards, involuntarily.

"But I hope she's wrong," continued little Anya. "I want to see something too." She waved her rag. "And cheer them on."

"This isn't a sports rally," said Nikolai, grimly. "It's a war. Anya, you're talking about a war. Thousands of people will get killed if they come down here."

"But I'd like to see them all the same..." She frowned at her rag. It was a mistake on the educators' part to introduce the World Wars into second-grade syllabi. They mixed up what had happened with movies and games.

Uncle Mihalov stormed into the room, in a fury. "So that's it, my trip to the Union is canceled," he fumed. "What about the flight that took off two hours before mine? Imagine it. The cops at Heathrow will clap them behind bars and label them, what, spies?" A snort. He was a businessman, and trips like this often mattered for his venture. But now it couldn't be helped.

"It can't be helped," said Auntie, sitting down and a tapping a number into her comm. She was probably calling Susie Baudelaire, her friend. I knew her name well after the times Ivan had compared it with that of Charles Baudelaire's.

Natasha appeared from under the trapdoor leading to our room, and Ivan sat straight. "Maybe we could hide down there when the recruiters come," he suggested. "I'm not in the mood to run a mile every morning." Poor Natasha caught on immediately, and blanched. She turned to me.

"Please don't tell me..."

I shrugged, feeling lost for a moment. "He's correct. The Federation's at war, and we'll probably be drafted into the-"

"Shut up, Ilya," interrupted Ivan. I realized he was as scared as I was.

The worst thing was, though both the adults in the room knew what I was going to say, they also seemed to agree.

Hi there!

This is a good story, you told it beautifully. I think you should put the spoiler befor the story though, because I was genuily confused while reading most of this. Your characters are developed well and I can feel the tension between the members of the family. One nitpick I have however, is why Natasha wasn't in the story more. It seems she just disappears after they hear the bad news.

Overall this is a good story. Keep writing!

Very nice, good family tension and overall suspense. I was a little disoriented till I read the spoiler, maybe you could mention the date somewhere early in the story? Just a suggestion. I also enjoyed her uncle's tirades, it was very easy to picture him. Overall, quite enjoyable to read.

I enjoyed this story. One of my questions were, who were they at war with? If you said who they were at war with, then it wasn't very defined in the story. I didn't see any spelling or grammar mistakes so you did pretty good overall.

I would encourage you to write more to this and maybe expand the story. Are they going to get recruited? or are they going to avoid that and run/hide?

Well I always encourage people to keep writing, so keep writing!!

--Jalmoc

Hello there Remember me?

I'll start by outlining problem areas and bits that I like.

It all began so quickly neither side had time to blink before reacting.

This sentence is missing a comma. If I read it in a straight forward way, it doesn't make sense. I'd place it after 'quickly'

My best friend Natasha was still curled up beside me on the couch, and the movie we'd had been watching played out a little while longer on the screen in front of us.

Natasha reached for my hand. "Ilya," she started, "please tell me we didn't just hear what we heard." She was pleading. I said nothing. In our basement room, we could hear much of what happened above. People were stomping to and fro over our heads. A small child - probably my little sister - burst into tears.

The part I highlighted should be a different paragraph. Since what the narrator is saying has nothing to do with what Natasha said. What I'm trying to say is that a certain character's speech and whatever they do after that should stand on it's own (I don't know if I'm clear on that one).

"Aunt Agafea?" I called, uncertainty leaking through my words.

I love this.

Okay, this is a very interesting concept I have to admit. One major problem I have after reading this is that you failed a little at giving me a visual of your characters and the setting. Yes, you described their eyes and hair, but that's not enough. Again, you did a great job at describing the situation, with the panic and shock, but things are still rather plain. I'd like to know your characters. After the door was opened, there was a sudden flood of various characters related to the MC or narrator and I didn't know who they were or their purpose. If I didn't know any better, I'd assume you snatched this scene from a longer story, because that's what it looks like. Continue it and add some characterisation; give me a glimpse of the setting, it would go well with the plot.

Other than that, I really enjoyed your writing. Thank you for requesting my services, my apologies again for being late.

Keep writing and good luck!