Uploaded September 2010 | Updated September 2026, 4 hours ago
Story by alex22868
Cover illustration by me.
Some words are purposely omitted to make the reading run smoother.
All parts of the dramatic reading will be uploaded when they are finished being edited. I will only be reading the Prologue and Chapter 1; Chapter 2 has not been completed yet.
Chapter 1 will be broken up into eight parts.
---
I was woken up the next day by the loud warning call of an air raid. I rolled off of the cot and crouched below it, lying with my knees scrunched up to my arms. The air raids used to be something I looked forward too, but now after so many years of nothing coming of them, I'd given up hope. They were just another nuisance.
After the alarm signaled their leaving, I got up and looked out the barred window. It was still quite dark outside, most likely early morning. I sighed, lay back down on my cot and waited for the men to come to send me to breakfast.
Surprisingly, they came quite quickly. I was shoved out of the cell and down the hallway with others into the hall where we ate. I received my small bowl of brown gunk and walked over to sit by myself in the corner.
The pain was back again.
It came in spasms, varying from day to day. Some days, it was just a dull throb or even sometimes non existent. Other days it was so bad I didn't even want to see or speak to anyone.
Today was one of those days.
I sat there on the floor, huddled alone, and just lost myself in my thoughts. I wondered how Ty was holding up. I wondered when I would get out of this hell hole. I wondered if the war would ever end.
But most of all, I wondered if Alex was alive.
He had lived in the biggest city there was in Canada. It was no wonder we bombed it first.
And yet we still lost anyways.
Irony. Such a painful word. It never seemed to bear good news, and this type was the worst. The one thing I cared about in that country was probably destroyed first. It seemed life wanted to laugh at me, and keep me alive so that it could keep laughing.
I stayed there until a soldier forced me to stand up and sent me with a group of others to the working section of the camp. There we worked in assembly lines to assemble military equipment and other things.
You would think they would never trust us to assemble their crap. Problem is, if the weapon didn't work when they tested it, they killed the last three people who were in the assembly line.
It was crude, but it sure did work damn well.
I stood there, hunched over the conveyer belt as the items went by. My job was to screw in all the bolts. It was not a difficult job, but I always worried that I might not screw something in tight enough and three peoples' deaths would be on my head.
The Inspector was going around again as well. That was never a good sign; the last time he came, most of the workers got lashes. He seemed to enjoy our pain.
Sick bastard.
I heard yells of agony from down the line, and I knew that today wasn't a good day. More people were crying out in pain than usual. But I didn't dare look up; I could not give him any excuse to whip me.
Because I would not look up, I never saw him. But I heard his breathing behind me. I was starting to get nervous, and I trembled inside. But oddly enough, he passed me by. I truly wonder why he chose to not whip me.
----
Story, concept, characters (C) alex22868
Cover art (C) lsugirl123
Story by alex22868
Cover illustration by me.
Some words are purposely omitted to make the reading run smoother.
All parts of the dramatic reading will be uploaded when they are finished being edited. I will only be reading the Prologue and Chapter 1; Chapter 2 has not been completed yet.
Chapter 1 will be broken up into eight parts.
---
I was woken up the next day by the loud warning call of an air raid. I rolled off of the cot and crouched below it, lying with my knees scrunched up to my arms. The air raids used to be something I looked forward too, but now after so many years of nothing coming of them, I'd given up hope. They were just another nuisance.
After the alarm signaled their leaving, I got up and looked out the barred window. It was still quite dark outside, most likely early morning. I sighed, lay back down on my cot and waited for the men to come to send me to breakfast.
Surprisingly, they came quite quickly. I was shoved out of the cell and down the hallway with others into the hall where we ate. I received my small bowl of brown gunk and walked over to sit by myself in the corner.
The pain was back again.
It came in spasms, varying from day to day. Some days, it was just a dull throb or even sometimes non existent. Other days it was so bad I didn't even want to see or speak to anyone.
Today was one of those days.
I sat there on the floor, huddled alone, and just lost myself in my thoughts. I wondered how Ty was holding up. I wondered when I would get out of this hell hole. I wondered if the war would ever end.
But most of all, I wondered if Alex was alive.
He had lived in the biggest city there was in Canada. It was no wonder we bombed it first.
And yet we still lost anyways.
Irony. Such a painful word. It never seemed to bear good news, and this type was the worst. The one thing I cared about in that country was probably destroyed first. It seemed life wanted to laugh at me, and keep me alive so that it could keep laughing.
I stayed there until a soldier forced me to stand up and sent me with a group of others to the working section of the camp. There we worked in assembly lines to assemble military equipment and other things.
You would think they would never trust us to assemble their crap. Problem is, if the weapon didn't work when they tested it, they killed the last three people who were in the assembly line.
It was crude, but it sure did work damn well.
I stood there, hunched over the conveyer belt as the items went by. My job was to screw in all the bolts. It was not a difficult job, but I always worried that I might not screw something in tight enough and three peoples' deaths would be on my head.
The Inspector was going around again as well. That was never a good sign; the last time he came, most of the workers got lashes. He seemed to enjoy our pain.
Sick bastard.
I heard yells of agony from down the line, and I knew that today wasn't a good day. More people were crying out in pain than usual. But I didn't dare look up; I could not give him any excuse to whip me.
Because I would not look up, I never saw him. But I heard his breathing behind me. I was starting to get nervous, and I trembled inside. But oddly enough, he passed me by. I truly wonder why he chose to not whip me.
----
Story, concept, characters (C) alex22868
Cover art (C) lsugirl123
