World at War

Chapter One

My feet sting as leafs crackle and sticks snap beneath me. But I still run, I must run, I must get away! The war between the French and English has been continuing for 4 years now, it's not going so great for the French. There are only a few of the French with many Native American tribes help, but they are still outnumbered compared to the many English. The English even had the Iroquois Confederacy fighting for their side, including some Native tribes and colonists.

This means horrible events are to come my way in the future, since I was born into the French region. I had no other choice than to leave everything behind, my childhood memories, and escape. No, I do not belong to the French. I will never belong to anyone, although they may believe different. May call me a rebel, but I have gone through plenty to become the way I am. Both my parents were brutally killed, the appalled sight playing on replay in my mind. It has snapped me into the reality around me, a disappointing new outlook of this terrible life.

My name is Alexia, a title given to me by my father. This name doesn't suit me because of my personality, so I go by Alex. I didn't have many friends growing up, everyone claiming me to be a boy and not normal. I only had my beloved parents by my side as I grew up. Distant memories flash through my head of my mother's sweet smile as she cheered me up when my face was a watery mess. Then my father's lovely scent when I squeezed him in a hug, him returning the embrace with his strong arms draped around my 7 year old fragile form. My memories turn much more violent, those broad figures with knives creeping silently into my childhood home at late night. The blood curdling screams coming from my parents while I hid in the corner crying. Such a coward.. I was so pathetic.. Useless!

"Stop Alexia!" I interrupt the vicious thoughts as I shake my head, blinking away tears that threaten to fall.

So, I am a french, 15 year old girl, who hasn't met love no matter how many guys my parents sent my way. Stubborn, indeed I was, but deep down I have my reasons. I mustn't trust any man, for they are cruel bloody murderers and may I admit, rapists. My cheeks burn in anger as these thoughts settle, horrible things the men did to my friends... I will never trust anyone other than my parents, now I have no one to trust. Now, I run away from that life I once shared with them.. 

It is pitch black out tonight, the French and English along with their companions has settled somewhere in these patches of woods. I have escaped the custody of the French with little help from my secretive training. The two young soldiers blocking the exit to our disease filled cages were injured when I struggled to escape.. Often, I would hear the soldiers call our cages a prison. Why do they lock us up... I would always wonder. I mean, we are just pathetic women and children with rebellion thoughts. As this war continued, I have heard some women and children were being killed due to certain actions of rebellion they perform. I am often surprised my punishments haven't been severe as theirs, I have done horrible things. So, I have decided to secretly prepare and develop fighting skills. Ever since my parents died at age 9, I have trained myself. Most likely better than the average soldier. It is odd, since us women are known as helpless humans only good for possibly producing a young soldier. They are wrong... Terribly wrong...

My long beige skirt that I created myself hangs past my ankles, sometimes getting caught on the few bushes and low branches. My heart and lungs are on fire as I sprint at top speed through the never ending woods. I figure the French might not care to look for me, but I continue to run. Finally after about 30 minutes of running, my legs crash, sending my body meeting the ground. Starring up at the many enormous trees covering the dark night sky, I breath heavily gasping for air greedily. Sweat drips down my brow and regrets fill me, poisoning my mind. Maybe I shouldn't have run, I mean it's just suicide without food and water. I scoot over to a tree, pressing my back against its rough trunk and I hug my knees to my chest. Once my breathing finally calms, I listen for any signs of human life. Nothing, just the chirping of crickets and the birds of the night calling to each other.

The cooling air blows, my long gingerly hair getting stuck to my sweaty forehead. My thumbs come across a pointy charm on a silver necklace that hangs from my neck. The red crystal in the middle of a large circle shines as if it hides something which I know not of. This was hanging on my father's lifeless neck, the killers oblivious to its breathtaking presence. It is the little I hold on to that reminds me of the people who were their for me. The crickets play their melody which brings loving memories of my childhood back to me. You know, sitting here in this beautiful place makes it difficult to believe this world is full of evil. My eyelids get heavier and heavier until I finally let them rest. Soon everything in this terrible life disappears, and I am greeted with my own peaceful world; sleep.