1914

Chapter 1

Macey's POV

"And we continue to loose troops and position in this war.." The reporter on the radio talks in a monotone voice.
Sick of hearing about this war I flick the radio off,War is a stupid way to show dominance.

I would love for everyone to just lay down their differences and show peace. But sadly that isn't going to happen. Ever since I lost my dad a couple of months ago my mother has been wasting her life in her high class/ expensive bedroom. Drowning in her sorrow with wine and cigars. Sometimes people don't realise how important their lives are, I for one see just how important the little things in life are.

-Flashback to three hours ago-
"Good morning Macey, what can I get for you?"

Mother had sent me to the market to purchase fresh vegetables and bread for the picnic we are holding this afternoon. I actually got her to agree to get out for a while.

"A fresh loaf please Marcus"
Marcus was the local baker who wasn't the richest or the poorest in the town. He was what my mother calls "Mid Class".

"Coming up" he turns his back to grab a loaf of fresh bread.
"So how is your mother?"
"She is ok. As healthy as she has always been" I sarcastically reply.

A small smirk appears on his wrinkled face.
"I see. That will be £5 please".

I hand him the money and thank him. He is the only other person in this town who agrees that sitting around wasting your life is an act of sin. Especially since some of us don't have very long to live.

As I step out onto the sidewalk I see a tall boy about my age with brown hair and the greenest eyes hearding up 3 children. Two of he children run around causing mischief, while the other stands by the older boy. Grasping onto the bottom of his ripped coat.
He sighs at his failure to tame the children and his eyes meet my eyes, He smirks.

I realise after a while that I've been staring. These children look really unhealthy and underfed, I walk over to the smallest one.
The older boy watching my movements.

"Here, make sure you share" I smile at the little blonde child in front of me and hand her the loaf of bread.

Shocked at first the child gasps but then thanks me quietly tugging at the older boys coat, smiling and laughing as she takes some of the bread into her dirty but warm hands.

Before the older boy can look up I have vanished in the crowed returning home.