The Old Neighborhood

The old neighborhood was nearly unrecognizable. Doors were no longer needed to enter once luxurious homes. Nor did once old homes even remotely resemble the past memories, which seem to be the only thing left between what we once had and what remains. The few of us that remained were astonished by how little was left.

We never realize how wonderfully something is until it has dissipated. I always thought about what life would be like without all of the necessities. How difficult it would be to survive without a glass of water, or a blanket to provide warmth and protection. Why take for granted what so many have become so accustomed to? When there's millions of those struggling to survive, billions are too busy worrying about their hair to notice. I never thought I'd become one of them, homeless and so hopeful for help. My house became my life, full of ruins and without beams to keep me standing.

It all began as an average workday. Such a work day that not everyone hated, for it was Friday. And for most, this meant a great deal of money had been added to their bank account. That once unimaginably valuable artifact we never truly cared for, has now become the very thing we needed most. It's as if the stench of the money we solely gloated about, is now suffocating those who once had more than they appreciated. For me, money was barely in our hands long enough to feel the soothing blemish of coating that granted us our basic needs. It was that sense of urgency that reminded me to reach into my back pocket. Now singed, from the reminisce of a holocaust that merely desolated my home town, I notice a slightly small hole.

A hole any normal person would have happened to surpass. Perhaps the hole was negligible, but not such a negligent that would have been skimmed over without noticing. I always have noticed the smallest things in life. Maybe it's because of the habit I have become so custom to. Having the urgency to examine every crevice or artifact within a 300-yard radius as if the world is a bomb and I am the EOD.

The hole seemed to cover up a specific crevice in my jeans. Trying not to draw attention towards myself, from the utter and complete darkness that has surrounded us all, I uncover a certain photograph I stashed away for safe keepings. Such safe keepings I nearly forgotten had existed. The sudden occurrence and realization set in that caused a certain tremble throughout my body to take place. The trembling was a feeling I hadn't felt since the accident. The same accident that left the neighborhood desolated and in ruins.

Never before had I experienced a more frightening epidemic. An epidemic no one could have ever prepared us for. It's as if the world had been ending. Screaming could be heard for miles upon miles. The seismic screams of bombs piercing through the sky, as if to be stabbing earth, constantly echoed throughout the shelters. Those cold, damp, motionless shelters that were the only thing between life and death. The spread of goosebumps quickly dispersed over my skin leaving it clearly noticeable of my discomfort. Just the thought of such death crept through my body, sending a tingling sensation down my spine. I wanted it to be over. I wanted all of this to be over. The destruction. The pain. How could such terror and ferocity be inflicted on innocent lives; lives that did not deserve the endless torture that had just been thrown on them.

The bombing rained down on all of us. For nearly eight hours we sat and listened to nothing but the constant pounding of earth's crust from above. Occasionally we would see light escape a crack in the ceiling, reminding us of what we might encounter from the nude world we were left with. We were isolated and left abandoned; not just abandoned but frightened by what we all believed was the end.

I remember seeing my friend, all alone, and pale as if all the color in the world had fled his body and went to seek shelter. The sad look that was left on his face that so many other victims carried with them. It was not just this look or the paleness of his skin that I noticed. There was something intriguing about him; something calling out to me, as if another entity was holding a neon sign that said "look here" or if fate may just have it, that I look over at him at the very second. His features were barely recognizable, the faint lighting brought on by an overhead lamp was responsible for having to cover over 30 square yards, but what was noticeable about my friend was quite peculiar. It was the sudden realization he came to during the third hour which intrigued me the most. As if the first two hours were a blur in an imaginative universe he so blindly created.

My friend was relentless, but never before had I seen a more detailed image. Only now, something had occurred to me that every line, every crevice and crack, every detail in the room that was visible popped out into its own dimension. I was fearful of the outcome, for I did not know if this was a hallucination, or if I was seeing the world for what it really was, a vivid masterpiece created for one purpose, to provide delight to those who can find it.

If delight was to be found, who could possibly find satisfaction from such total annihilation? If I could somehow understand the thought process of those around us, maybe then I'd be able to piece together the events that have happened so recently. The few quick attacks that were used primarily to startle us all was the beginning. Who would suspect anything from multiple vandalized houses, especially when they belong to the wealthiest 1%. Unless that was the only mishaps that ended up making the papers.

This wouldn't be the first time our government or publicists would have lied to us. In the government's eyes the top 1% is all there is. As if the other 99% of us are burdens to the rest of society. Our lives hardly propel the government to the same extent that the top 1% does.

After the few vandalisms, or so what we thought were vandalisms, came a series of threats. The same threats you'd expect from young teenagers, since the grammar was terrible and the letters were hand-written in the worst font possible. They all said the exact same thing. "B0W D0WN T0 TH3 RAV3N5." The only thing no one could wrap their heads around was the fact that no one knew who The Ravens were.

After the letters began it was all silent. Well, at least it had been for two months three days and 11 hours. For today was the day no one wants to remember. It is the last day of autumn, a day full of celebration, at least that's what we all hoped. There was never a day that could determine the following wrath, that would soon be inflicted on all of us, as there was today.

At least for now we're still in our cozy bunkers; if damp, dark, concrete floors could be considered cozy. I can't stop wishing this would all be over. To be back in my home; to be watching TV with my family while my siblings wrecked the place. It was always the same, by 8 o' clock every night my mom would grab our old sweeper, as if she already knew the house would soon be a wreckage. My siblings knew one thing better than anything else. To completely trash the place as if it was there job. In their eyes, maybe it was there job, considering how every time they were finished it looked like a tornado had come and only hit the inside of our house. They deserved a medal, the biggest medal house wreckers could deserve. I'd give anything in the world to be have that back.

I always dreaded the family time that was spent laughing and messing around while my mum and dad were trying to find peace and quiet in the midst of everything. Unlucky for them, they were never able to discover what didn't exist in my house. Unlucky for me because what I truly dreaded most, or at least what I dreaded at the time, is the very thing I want to be happening now. I don't want to hear the constant wailing sound of bombs hitting the ground above me. I don't want to sit alone in darkness, afraid of what might eventually happen. I want to be with my family, the only thought that's keeping me alive anymore.

I furthermore slide over to my friend. He seems to be in an unbearable amount of pain. The only reasonable explanation is that he has finally realized the outcome for his parents. They never made it to the bunkers, instead, they risked their lives to make sure their son was able to seek safety. The thought of his discomfort worried me greatly. I never did like the feeling of others being upset. It gave me a sickening feeling, as if my insides were being ripped to shreds. A sort of empathy flows throughout my body. A connection between my friend and I that I have never felt before.

I've never been one to talk about my feelings to anyone. I have the tendency to lock up my feelings in a safe and lock them away. All I have left is the urgency to scream to the world of all of my discomfort. I guess the sudden occurrence of the rather frequent events have made a bigger impact than anticipated. I only know this because I constantly find myself depressed. I constantly think about the massive destruction that has just taken place within my home town. What all does our lives mean to society? I want my life to impact the rest of the world in a way no one else has been able to. I don't want to become a nobody, but what if we are all nobody's in the world? What if this world has no specific meaning? What if we have all been wasting our lives trying to find meaning in a meaningless world? What if I have spent the past couple of years trying to get over a stepping stool that was never meant to be stepped over?

Life's meaning may not be anything we ever dreamt about. As I sit and wait for the never ending screaming of bombs to finally subside, the past 17 years of my life seem to flash before my eyes. I remember being a baby and constantly crying every time I was left alone. Or staring deeply into my mums eyes, seeing nothing but compassion and love she sees in life. I remember whenever I was five, coming home daily from school crying because I was never as popular as the other kids. Being made fun of because I was never like everyone else. I was shy. I took in my surroundings, pieced everything together, and created an alternate universe full of excitement and joy away from the adulterated world we're encaged in. I was the outcast, the kid nobody wanted to be associated with because I was different. Yet I still pushed on. Now I'm turning 13, finally I received the title teenager, and I couldn't be happier. It was a turning point, not a positive one, but a turning point none the less. I'm the way I am today because of the chain of events that were set into play, like dominoes knocking one over after the other. I may not be proud of what happened, but I couldn't be prouder for whom I turned out to be. As I sit in silence, or at least in my mind I'm in silence, I become no longer fearful of death. As if I've finally come to the acceptance of the rule I've played in life. There's nothing more I can do than sneak a smile out of the darkness. Yet I feel like there's a light that is given off by my smiles existence, as if it could be seen from the moon, or anyone else. It momentarily replaced the dull expression that was sewn onto my face. It was replenishing; nothing more, nothing less.

I never truly felt more alive at once than at that particular time, because I realized who I was. I spent most of my life trying to find myself, yet I was never able to pick up on the bread crumbs I happened to leave behind. I ignored all the signs, even though they were placed by myself to find many years later. It was a truly magnificent discovery I couldn't be prouder of finding. I was nothing my parents would have hoped I'd become, only something greater. I was musically inclined, everything I thought revolved around music. It was all I thought; I was constantly thinking about songs, wishing what it would be like to be singing my heart out up on stage. I wasn't the doctor or engineer they wanted me to be, in my eyes I was something better. I want to help and influence people with music the same way it has influenced me. I did not care if I was different, I wanted to be nothing more than my own individual. I believe I've achieved that goal of self-righteousness many hope to grasp. At this moment in time I make a promise to myself, to help as many people as possible through music.

A loud bang interrupts my thoughts of my childhood and what I'd hope to accomplish if I'm ever able to escape this torturous day. The sound comes from a bomb that must've pierced the ground right above us, for it made everyone's ears ring to the point where we all believed the ringing was never going to end. Just moments later another missile clashes with the ground sending a shockwave throughout the bunker. It must have knocked me unconscious because I soon notice I'm out in the free world instead of our grave. I'm with my parents and my siblings. It's a warm summer day, the leaves are smiling with colour, and all of the plants are continuing to thrive while giving off an aroma of bright colours. It was almost too vivid. It was as I had last imagined. I walk inside to notice my siblings fighting over the TV remote, as if a day would ever go by where they weren't fighting over that dang TV remote, and as I move slightly to the left I symbols upon a gift my mum had bought for me the day of the accident. A sudden realization hits me like a brick wall. I'm reliving the day the bombing started. We never knew exactly if they were going to attempt an attack of that magnitude, but with the continuous threats that poured through the government they decided to initiate and put forth the construction of several bunkers for any major town on the East Coast. Luckily for all of us the bunkers were completed earlier that week. The same bunkers no one would have expected us to be using were now the very obstacle that stood between life and death.

The older of my two younger siblings takes control of the TV remote, or at least I assume he has because my younger sister runs past me with tears raining down on the floor. I happen to look outside as a siren starts screaming. The sound becomes unbearable. Panic throughout the house starts and my parents rush into the dining room with my sister; she is underneath my mum’s arms and looks just as frightened as I did. My parents quickly grabbed my brother and preceded to tell us what all was happening. I'll never forget the shakiness of my father's voice. He was always a stern individual, but seeing him so afraid frightened was unforgettable. This was my chance to be the man in the house for once. As I was leading everyone out of the house we watched as the first missile closed in from the north. It was something I had never seen before. It was astonishing, a white streak of smoke poured out from behind and a certain look of death that fell upon it, and I became unsure of what the future held in store for us all.

I was never closer to death than I was during those first couple of minutes. I made it outside of my house with my parents and siblings right behind. I felt their presence but more importantly I felt as if their lives were in the palm of my hand. I didn't enjoy thinking how my families’ lives depended on my split second decisions. Running towards the blast, or so it seemed as blasts were raining down from all around us, I saw fear in the eyes of those I had passed. The same fear that held possession over myself. It was radiating from them the same way stench was given off from all things dead. They all looked like they had lost hope, and without hope the will to live is no longer alive. I tried to urge them on, waving strenuously in all sorts of directions to get their attention. They didn't deserve to die, just like none of us deserved to die. I was getting edged on by my surrounding neighbors who had accepted the fate that had been thrown into them. I never understood how they could be so accepting of their future.

I continue running yet I notice myself looking around continuously trying to take in the awful damages being caused to our beautiful surroundings. Nature was so abstract and always developing new products that seemed to bring out the curiosity in everyone. It killed me knowing how little of such beauty would remain once this was all over. I look behind me, and notice the very thing I so dreaded wanting to see. I'm missing my younger brother and my father. I quickly led my sister to cover before I took off in a race against time. It was at that moment I knew a bomb was going to land on top of us all, what I didn't know was when. Frantically running, ignoring all signs of fatigue, I run to the last place I remembered seeing everyone. It was pure luck when I saw everyone, but upon closer examination I noticed my parents are trapped beneath a wall that had fallen over from my neighbors shed. Ironic enough this shed was the first thing my dad had built with the intention of protecting my neighbors washed up merchandise.

They looked fearful and expected me not to look the same way. Yet devastated and already knowing my help wouldn't suffice I tried to help my parents. The thought of being without their guidance frightened me. I didn't know if I could live without them. Even though we always fought, it seemed as if being family could never separate us. My sister tried furiously alongside me but nothing happened except the emergence of tears. It was at this moment when I came to realization that I wouldn't see my parents anymore. I pick up my sister in a single scoop, the same way a plow might happen to scoop up gravel, and I run faster than I've ever ran in my life. I had promise to keep and that was to keep my siblings safe. I couldn't let my parents down again, and that is something I'm still currently achieving. With every step, every foot I move further from my parents I feel the dam crushing from behind my eyes. It was only a matter of time before a wave of tears began to seep out of my eye sockets. My feet got heavier but I couldn't give up on my siblings. It was an adrenaline rush to continue on knowing that even if I couldn't save my parents, my siblings lives would still flourish.

It's astonishing how quick the mind can process and take evasive action based on given information. I never would have pictured myself as heroic or even the slightest daredevil. I lived a rather normal isolated life from my parents, my friends, anyone who I could possibly stand the chance of eventually hurting. Yet I only ever seemed to hurt myself. Now it seemed as if everything was soon to change, I was full of adrenaline and didn't think of anything else except helping my brother and sister. Their safety meant more to me than my own. Without them i had no one, my family was desolated and in ruins, and my brother and sister could finally fix that. I had a home and my home was with them. Running past an ongoing bombing to get my siblings to safety was an action I never pictured myself doing. Yet it brought myself to life, for the first time I never felt more alive, and I enjoyed that.

We had finally made it to the newly finished bunker sought out to save the lives of hundreds of innocent victims. It looked old and desolated, as if it hadn't been touched for decades. There were already brave men outside helping the now homeless individuals that feared losing everything else that they had once cherished. They were moving quickly to ensure as many lives were brought to safety as possible. They were fearless, brave men who undoubtedly were willing to risk their own lives for others. Yet the resemblance of the man to my right as I rushed in to my safety was strikingly familiar. I've seen him before but I never could put an exact name to his face. He was dirty, covered in filth and mud just like the rest of us. He had a slicked back hairstyle, a particular hairstyle I hadn't seen in years, that was combed over to one side of his head that seemed to cover up a scar the size of my palm. He shockingly had on a matching outfit which would no longer be needed as the entire city could soon be eradicated. I was drawn to the familiarity of his features and the expression his face portrayed.

I was now safe, at least for the time being, and with my safety meant the safety of my younger siblings. Only the safety of my siblings and I meant the death of my parents. I continued to feel devastated towards the loss of my parents, and I knew they wouldn't want me to let my emotions turn me away from the protection of my brother and sister. I finally awoke from my unconscious state to find a few familiar faces looking down on me. The same faces which edged me, allowing myself to bring us all to safety. I was relieved to awake to find out my brother and sister were still managing throughout all of the chaos that was thrown onto them. They were my heroes, my own siblings battling through unimaginable pain and suffering, yet they were still able to bring me back to this chaos. They were braver than I'd ever hope to be, and I am gladly able to call them my own siblings. Now I can forever try and live with myself, knowing I couldn't save my parents, while constantly trying to keep my siblings alive. I wish I lived away from this torturous world, away in my thoughts, where anything impossible could become the imaginable. In a world where I could save people from corruption and show everyone that peace can be accomplished through hope and unity. It's a wish that might never come true, but a wish to fight for. I lie awake in a cold dungeon, below a desolate world and I can't help but think about how much better life could be. If only someone who thought differently could have spoken up, what could life be like now? It's a question that has been pondering throughout my mind since the bombing started. It was a question I don't think I'll ever be able to answer.

I am constantly wondering if this day will ever end. I am tired of the endless screams of my now new roommates. I comfort my siblings and hope the day will never come when they will be comforting me. For I could never imagine what it would be like to be on the receiving end of the table. I may help everyone in this bunker; I may go through my worst nightmare to make sure my friends are fine, but I am not willing to accept the help of my siblings. Maybe this attack on the city has corrupted me. All I know is that I cannot risk giving up for the sake of everyone around me.

I sometimes wish I had it like those same individuals who were able to go out quickly and without any suffering. They didn't have to experience the destruction and torture that had been overwhelmingly inflicted on the rest of us. I wish one day we could all live in a world where destruction is no longer needed to solve everyday problems. A world that in spite of everything, all the major disasters that pierce through all of us, we can rise up and live in harmony. I sometimes wonder if peaceful arrangements could be made throughout these terrible events, or if we waste our time hoping things will eventually get increasingly better. I don't know where life will take us, if we are all meant to make it out alive or die trying. All I know is that I made a promise to my parents, and I am willing to do anything to keep that promise. It is a sacrifice the few of us who are loyal must make. A sacrifice that I am willing to make if it means keeping my siblings safe. They have kept me going through this unspeakable disaster.

If something ever happens, and this barrage of attacks ceases to exist, then maybe change could be closing down on us all. We often hope for the better things in life without proceeding to accomplish these goals. It is as if everyone is too afraid to take evasive action on everyday affairs. One day, when this is all finished, when we can all walk away from this, if we can all walk away from this, I want to make a difference in this world, and hopefully my brother and sister can help me accomplish this.