I Know What You Are

(I know, its boring, just skip to the * paragraphs if you want. They mean important.Otherwise, if you fall asleep, skip to the next chapter)
I wanted ice cream. I wanted ice cream so bad. I thought, as I whittled away a little spear with my trusty red knife. I know this is a very selfish and odd want after last years Falsity Takeover war, but I couldn’t spare a dime to use Ms. Crawlette’s giant freezer, the only one in the town. The mayor had already declared it for free use for localhunting for the community. I wouldn’t want to be under her debt anyways.
I guess I’m getting ahead of myself here, don’t you know what the Falsity Takeover war is? No? Have you lived under a rock for the past year or something? Huh? Sheesh, All right, I’ll tell it again.

* It all started when there was a sudden accusations of paranormal beings in many areas. A large group of people came forward and started saying that they “didn’t want to hide any more” and “didn’t care about normal”.*

Basically, all the “different” people came foreword and told the world that they didn’t want to hide anymore. That there were to many and it was too much trouble. I can’t go on the specifics of the “different” people, because most were all diverse, some were lies. Its hard to explain. Examples like mind readers, werewolves, people with odd powers and such. Everybody had seen something different. Names were being told, lives were being ruined.

At first “normal” people thought that they were crazy, until they proved it. A man came on the television screen and turned into a wolf. I didn’t see the rest, but I heard it was a grisly scene. Then people got scared, angry, hysterical, and had many puzzled emotions. People started second guessing their neighbors. Violence started even then. It was livable with though, since they came in peace.

Then another mob of “different” people came forward and decided that they were they were against the normal people. They were saying that if they would be against them, they would be against people.

So there were people on the “normal” peoples side fighting against both sides of different people, there was people fighting against only the different people against them, there was different people fighting both normal people and different people. AND different people just fighting against people. Also, people just reeking havoc just for destruction.

Confused? So was everyone.

They were fighting among themselves. *The battle commenced, an extremely vicious one, everything was destroyed. I mean everything. Everywhere. Nobody won, but nobody lost.
Most different ones went into the woods, others into hiding. Some were the kind that were dangerous to people and couldn’t live with them, no matter if they liked them or not. A few were still out for normal people. Some stayed in the villages and helped the people with protection. Our village had no such luck. In fact, there were disappearances every 14 to 15 days from inhuman creatures attacking.*

*The normal people, no matter who you were or where you were, built little “tribe” like camps and started trying to rebuild themselves. People from all different nationalities, scattered everywhere were just placed together. Didn’t matter if you were with your family of not, but many people were placed with them anyways.*

*That’s where we are now, almost a year later, still trying to live normal lives again.*

Oh Me? I’m Pamela, from Chicago. The neighborhood “Good girl”. Always helpful, helps the little lady across the street kind of girl. The girl with the speckly spots and bright red hair. I had that sassy voice in my head, but I was always passive, agreeable and thoughtful. I didn’t think this was a bad thing.

I liked being well… “Liked”! It was good to feel happy about something at least. I was glad my brother and his fiancée where all right in camp B17. My parents were in a different one as well, but I didn’t know which. I knew I had it good compared to most. I had lost relatives and family, ones I was close to, but I knew people had it worse.

*I lived with my favorite Uncle (Who is at the moment, sick) and my little dog Toes (uneven on each paw) in our makeshift house.*

It was a good thing he was a carpenter, because that’s how we earned our money in the refugee. Him building houses and buildings for the Mayor. Since he was sick, we were very behind on the money (Mostly because medicine was crazy, crazy expensive), but I earned it back reading for the snobby and stingy Ms. Crawlette. The richest person in the camp.

Don’t worry about me though; I had enough money to go to the Half School and usually for everyday necessities. (If the camp was brought them). *Half School was a sort of improvised school. The elected mayor decided that kids should still get an education.* I didn’t mind, I liked school (So sue me). Mine between the hours of nine o’ five and one o’ five on weekdays.

It was this way so the older, high school age kids in school could work for their families and get jobs in the afternoons, when the younger kids schooling would be. It would cover basic subjects such as Math, English, History, Language, Major sciences and sometimes lesser subjects. No parties or messing around, just learning. Different teachers sometimes (My favorite one being Mrs. Riley). There were about 80 of us older kids all together.

The way to make the most money was the most dangerous job, being a mailman. Sounds silly right? *But our mail men were the equivalent of your firefighters, policemen and doctors all in one, that’s how important and dangerous.* They would have to travel through the forest (BIG NO-NO. That’s were bad things were. Seriously. Unknown, dangerous things out there. If you went into the forest past the small area around the camp, you basically just jumped of a cliff.

Often there would be a new mailman every time, carrying pounds and pounds of letters and packages that were desperately needed for every camp. Filled with assorted supplies such as medicine, blankets, food, clothes and etc. The packages would often be found strewn in the woods, with the missing mailman, by the next one.
They would usually be kids my age, looking for ways to support heir families, since some had become the heads of the households, others needing just to support themselves. They had a place for separated kids without their parents, but they still needed to pay for food there.

Anyways, mail rarely got to where it needed to go. But it was rarely at all, or never.

And that’s how life went.