Never Forget

• Victoria Stock, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2014

My name is Isla. I am fifteen years old and I know things that no one should know. I don't know why the world has come to this. But I do know why I am here, isolated and alone from the rest of the world. Because I run. Running and hiding; they are my life. They're all that is real to me in these messed up times people call the present. Why? I run to keep my memories. I hide to keep what little information of the world I know inside my head, accessible to someone even if it's only I who shall know of these truths. I know of famine and poverty. I know of floods and fires and other disastrous turns of Mother Nature. I know of the bombs and bullets. The bombs and bullets people are turning on one another in hope to gain control of the world's power. Why we, as a human race, have resorted to this unnatural power against each other is unbeknownst to me. But at least I am not living in oblivion, unlike so many others. Unlike the rest of the population. Unlike they who have been altered, scientifically changed to have their memories erased. Memories of the famine and poverty and wars erased so that the those left on the planet who know that the world is no perfect place dwindle down to the few that live like me. The few that run and hide, fleeing from those who seek to make them forget the truth of the world. But I don't want to forget. Beauty is not pure unless flaws are overcome. Having everyone become blind to imperfections does not make life, nor earth, perfect. I am filled with amazement at what the rest of the world is missing out on, their lives ruled by the environment they are forced into. The environment full of lies and deceit. An environment where these horrors are viewed as a progressive motion for the world’s leading court. I think back to the times that must’ve come before these; a time when the destiny of humanity hung by a thin thread, swaying in the breeze that the wars and conflict between the many nations had caused. In time, that breeze grew to a gale, and the thread snapped, sending humanity plummeting into a dark abyss where any means of survival were used to come out on top. That’s when the world forgot. Everyone but the leaders, the ones that still fought over the earth, forgot life before now, forgot the atrocities that stalked our world. To them, it seemed like such a simple solution, have all the innocent live in a stupor so the battles can rage around them, so they have no say in their own fate. But I want a say. I want to know what happens to my home. I need to know my own story, the truth, beginning to end. My name is Isla, and this is why I run.