My dreams are haunted by nightmares. Images of terror and despair.
I had one a few nights ago, about the world bombing itself, each country turning on the others, fighting until it was nothing but black. Walking alone, in the wreckage of once was a city, now reduced to a pile of dust and debris. Everything took on the appearance of an old photograph, faded, smudged and grey. I remember walking through the rubble, the air warm and damp, dust seemed to float in the air, mixing with the air and moisture forming what seemed like a never-ending grey curtain blocking out the horizon. I could feel the rubble and debris under the soles of my sneakers, and my dress clung to my thighs. There was a slight breeze felt like it was pushing me into the ground, which seemed to radiate heat. Even the breeze, instead of being cooling it was hot- yet brought a chill down my spine.
The world seemed empty, and all I could hear was the wind whistling by my ears. No sound cars going past. No construction racket. No hum of music, no noise of the people walking around, or going about their daily lives. There were no people, no roads, no buildings, only rubble. Then a thought hit me. These rocks and debris that I was stepping on-they weren’t only chunks of buildings, they were plants, sidewalks, subway cars, people…
As that thought sunk in I suddenly felt stifled. The air I was breathing, the ground I was walking on, the moisture now made my skin crawl. I squirmed as if trying to shake off the feeling of nausea and repulsion. I fell to the ground screaming in grief and realization.
I woke up in my cold bed; a thin layer of sweat covered my body, my sheets twisted and contorted around me. I could feel my heart racing in my chest, pounding against my ribs; my breath quick and heavy.
Now I cannot sleep, it simply refuses to come to me. As I lay wake staring at the ceiling my mind begins to wander, so I decided to accept my insomnia and get up. Everyone else is long since in bed, Mama and Poppy down the hall, Annie snoring slightly, and I can make out the faint outline of her tiny sleeping silhouette.
I envy the freedom she has, she’s only six. Spending her days playing jump rope and hopscotch, blissfully unaware that everything she ever knew could end in a moment. I remember being that age, where I could be entertained for hours building fairy houses out of sticks, and my biggest worry was trying to color in the lines. It’s sad to think she’ll have to grow up and realize that the world is a lot harsher then you ever anticipated. What scares me even more is the idea that she won’t have the chance to grow up…
I told this to Mama, all she did was give me a sad look, and turned around back to the dishes, telling me not to think about it. I can see she worries about it too. When we’re watching the news programs I can see the lines in her face deepen. It reminds me of President Kennedy; he used to look so young and handsome. I remember all the girls at school thought so, now he looks old, and weathered. He may look weary, but he still has spirit and fire in him. We listened to his speech the other night announcing that Russia was placing missiles in Cuba, and you could hear the passion in his voice as he spoke, his love for his country, and his want to protect it. Even still I am scared. What if we do go to war? We could at any second go into the first nuclear war. Innocent people would die. All for the pride of their country, for a flag.
Death has been on my mind lately, even more so since I heard about Cuba. What would happen if I died tomorrow? What would happen? Who would mourn? Would I go to heaven? Would I miss being alive? Even though it is somewhat of a morbid thing to think about, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not afraid to die.
But more afraid that I’ll die without ever really having lived.
(So this is a thing I had to do for my English class, and I'd like to get some feedback on, I had to write a diary entry from the point of view of a teenager, during the Cuban missile crisis. Every little bit helps and don't be afraid to tear it apart and be as harsh as you want since it's being graded.
Gender:
Points: 7539
Reviews: 374