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Michael Ross is a young teenager who sees more than other people. The year is 2135 and all the different countries of the world have united to create Unitar. Run by the union, which is led by Him. They control everything the people watch, read, and learn. Rebel forces have been trying to fight against Him, but they have been forced into hiding.
Michael Ross has started to write a journal, after writing in the journal several times, he is inspired to write a novel.
But he must decide whether to write what he feels or what he's told.
"I Pray that he views me as his equal
And gives me life in tomorrow’s wake"
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Submitted:May 9, 2013    Reads: 5    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   

For the first time, I realize, I am lonely. But what's even more is that I feel lonely. I miss Sammy, my mum, sometimes even my dad. I guess confined in this cell with a dirty light bulb's dim light for company drains me of my stubborn emotionless. Maybe life under the Union isn't that bad; I had food readily available, not dished once a day. I had water that was clean and not from the toilet in the corner. I had people to talk to, not a dirty sheet to cry in. I had a life whereas in here I'm drained of it all, I guess now I can definitely call them; rebellious ways. I can feel the burning sensation in my throat struggling to form into words. I can't write this. I can't.

But I must.

It seems I have no choice, I must become false, someone I am not.

Though I guess it is a change in my usual everyday life, the same old routine I used to follow has gone now. I used to know exactly what would happen tomorrow.

But now I don't know whether I'll wake up the same tomorrow.

Before I left the colonels office he told me I was going to be famous for my work.

But it isn't my work.

True it is from my words, but twisted.

I have no choice but to write the book. They have given me to make my decision, and all of today I have been staring at the ceiling hoping or an escape out of this place. Though there is only one way in and out of the capitol, and my bright blue clothes would scream a death sentence from a mile away. And then how would I get out of the prison anyway.

At times I start to give up on this journal, I haven't had the urge to write in it as frequently.

I don't want people to remember me anymore.

Not for my lies.

Though I must keep this journal hidden, for if it is found my death will come ever swifter and I won't have the chance to live.

This journal is the one thing that is keeping me true.

I have made my decision, I will write the book.

I will bask in the glory for a moment then duck back into a cave and disappear from the media's view.

I won't even make it that good. It probably won't be even if it tried.

Until we meet again sweet journal.

I Pray the you stay hidden


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