All They Didn't Know

3rd Entry

"Dear Diary,

I found a place to stay. That's the good news.

The bad news is that it's right on the border between Safety and the land on the Enemy. So I'm just about safe, for now, but the second an Enemy soldier steps over the barbed wire separating us, I'll be the first thing they see to kill.

But I had no choice, I've been walking for hours and being Britain, it's now pouring with rain and I couldn't risk water leaking onto the food inside my pathetic sack. Where else was I going to go, anyway? Keep walking, right over the border to where the Enemy has taken over? I suppose I probably should have thought about which direction I was going when I set off this morning, but it was too much of a hurry and even British soldiers have guns that they will not hesitate to use.

So I had no choice, or that's what I tell myself.

For that's what you are, isn't it, Diary? You are me, and I am you, myself, my mind, my memories. Oh, I don't expect anyone will ever read this, but if they do, I think I will want it used as a - as a source, for a history book, to show first-hand just how horrendous the Proud War was. Gosh... I hope no soldiers see this now.

I can hear the rain still pattering against the roof of the tent outside, as well as the steadier plink of raindrops falling in a tin that I've set underneath a hole in the fabric. The tent is slowly deteriorating, and I don't want to think what I'll do when it finally collapses. I've set up my sleeping bag after finally wrestling it out of the typically too-small bag that it's kept in, and now I'm lying on it with a lamp as I write this. Just on the other side of the border the land falls into thick forest, but not far on this side is a stream which I'm pretty sure I can drink from. Anyway, I only pitched up tent half an hour ago when it got dark and I'd better have something to eat now. I think I have some beans that I can heat up. And hot chocolate powder. Yep. Ok, well, see ya later.

Night, night."