Anetha and Fahren

Several miles away, in a war torn country, a radio broadcast was going on.

"This is the Prime Minister. We interrupt your daily programmes to announce that all children between ages 15-21 will be taken in 3 hours to clear the excessive flooding caused by our recent war. Officials will come and pick up the children within the hour. If you struggle, you will be imprisoned for life. Thank you. We are now back to your regular programming. "

He said this almost jokingly. Even though I knew all too well it wasn't one.

Half of our country was underwater. You could literally walk to the water, no matter where you were. I knew getting rid of the water would take months; maybe years. I started panicking.

"Anetha-" My mom started, but I was already out of the house.

"I'll be back soon!" I threw behind me as I ran, my red hair flying in the wind. I had to get to my best friend, Fahrens', house.

I was fifteen. Fahren was sixteen. I need to make sure he got this announcement, what he thought of it. Certainly I couldn't be the only one who thought it was absolutely insane.

I stopped at his back door. I would have stopped at the front, but the front section of his house was "caged". That's what we call the hardened purple goo encasing a good fourth of our country. Aftermath of the war.

Fahren opened the door before I could knock. All he said was, "I heard."

He held his arms open, and I hugged him tightly, trying to conceal the single tear running down my cheek.

"Hey, hey. None of that, now. We're going to be alright. It's not as if it's forever. We'll get to come back once it's all cleared up."

He holds me at arm's length, staring at me reassuringly with his almost purple eyes.

"Do you have any idea how much of this place is entirely underwater???" I say practically.

"A lot," Fahren admits. He pulls me back into a reassuring hug.

I back out of his arms almost immediately, feeling slightly awkward. He looks disappointed; I wish I hadn't done it.  Suddenly someone grabs me roughly from behind. Fahren looks alarmed, and I'm suppressing a shriek myself. I turn, and there's grim a man uniformed in brown.

"Time to go, little girl. Boy, you come on, too. Don't bother packing anything; they've got provisions on the train."

We've been plodding silently for around ten minutes when I realize something. 

Why do we need a train if we can walk from one end of this tiny country to the other?

The End

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