An Account of Days

Account of Days

By Kitty Meowie

Dedicated to Hope, which without we would be hopelessly muddled.

Any similarity to anybody living or dead is merely coincidental.

                  

                                            CHAPTER ONE

                                           Morning Meetings

I am indeed a morning person. In the middle of the day you can’t see the sun rise or hear complete silence as you can in the morning. I slip my paws into my incredibly soft slippers and pad downstairs two levels. I have a tower to myself, but most of the tower is made of stairs that lead up to three consecutive floors at the top of the tower. The top floor, at the very top of the tower is my bedroom, the next floor down is the Not Yet Caught computer room, and the final floor,(which is still very high up indeed) is the Not Yet Caught lounge, which I am now heading to.

The reason I am getting out of my soft bed at all is because my seven best friends and I are having a sunrise meeting and there happens to be a stovetop in the lounge. The eight of us drink tea by the gallon-full. I walk silently across the room and refill the kettle.

Most of my friends are usually late for our morning meetings, as they don’t especially enjoy the morning, so I lapse into a squishy armchair. This rest doesn’t last for long, because two night-gowned figures race past me to get to the fireplace. “Good Morning, Hanna and Lucky,” I say stifling a yawn. “G-g-good M-m-m-morning, K-k-kitty,” Lucky replies, her teeth chattering.

The fireplace is lacking a fire, so I help Hanna and Lucky start it. Lucky and I arrange the wood properly while Hanna starts the fire. Just as we have a merry blaze going, Amy stumbles in. Her nightgown is made of white silk with flower embroidered all down her sleeves. For my family, this nightgown would be the price of a wedding dress, but Amy is Amy Whuffer, so she has about eight nightgowns like this. She collapses on a white silk coach, which she claimed as soon as we redesigned the room.

While everybody is yawning and resting, I get their warm drinks ready. Lucky usually likes “Sweet Cattish Nectar” tea; Hanna likes hot cocoa, but enjoys Cattish Nectar tea too; Amy likes jasmine tea; and I adore mint tea. I go over all these in my head as I bustle around gathering tea bags, everybody’s favorite mug, and pouring hot water. I’ve just gotten everyone tea when Scurvie and Pup come in, looking very grumpy. I’ve made their tea ahead of time and the sip it in angry silence, brooding about being awake. All that is left to be here is Raven and Sealie, and they should have been here five minutes ago. Most likely Sealie is dragging Raven across the rope bridge so Raven can come to the meeting. Raven probably is still fast asleep no matter where he is right now. I set down my mug to walk to the window and look out of it.

Raven and Sealie stayed in each of the other towers. Their towers had only a few rooms at the top, so they had the towers all to themselves, like me. Rope bridges connected all the towers and this especially large window with no glass was the door to the rope bridges. I see a seal dragging a sleeping black cat.

As I run out to help Sealie, the wind slashes across me like knives. It’s alright for Sealie to be out in this weather because his layers of blubber can protect him from almost anything. Even so, it really isn’t fair that Raven gets the credit of being at the meeting when Sealie has to drag him there. I slap Raven sharply across the face and his eyes flutter open, glaring at me.

“That was utterly and completely needless.”  He says, irked. I nod at Sealie and he lets Raven drop to the bottom of the rope bridge. “You’re not at the meeting and you’re late for it, anyhow.” I say, frowning at him. “Come on, Sealie. I give you permission to not have to drag Raven.”  Sealie and I walk on, with Raven spitting, sputtering and cursing everything that has wronged him in the past ten seconds, mainly me.”

There is no warm welcome for mw when we reach the tower. Although every person agreed to the sunrise meeting in daylight, they were grumbling now. I decided to let all their insults go, because after all, I did have children of ages ranging from age 3-12 before me, and I was the only morning person among them.

I take a seat and my cup of tea up again. “You know why we are here.”  There is a bit of yawning and nodding is recognition.”We are, indeed, here to discuss some rather secret topics that we wouldn’t like to casually talk about.”  “I don’t see why we couldn’t talk about it at night.” Amy grumbles. Nearly everybody agrees on this. “We,” I patiently explain,” are going to have the meeting in the morning, because the Abeish know for certain that we are planning something, and that we are indeed having these meetings. Our parents don’t even know about the meetings, but the Abeish do.

“Due to recent studies, they have determined several facts. That children don’t enjoy an early start, but enjoy a late evening; that two families out of our three families are indeed rich; that these particular rich children have no interest in getting up early for everything, “I pause at this remarkable statement. “Finally, they discovered that we trust people exceedingly, and that we trust almost anybody.” I look at them. “There is one thing I don’t understand.” Hanna says. “We would have believed you had you told us before, and we would have not complained. So why are you telling us this now.”

I smile at her. “Excellent question, Hanna. I did it because now, and the next thirty minutes, is the only guaranteed time that we can discuss anything without it being broadcasted directly to the Abeish.”

                                    CHAPTER TWO

                         Values (And how much they matter to us.)

We are very odd children. Hanna and I, who are not yet twelve, teach school to six other children. We wear dresses that went out of style 100 years ago. We write a very large blog that is the most viewed website in history. Even by our standards, we are odd, and I am, I tell myself, leading my friends into doing something even odder.

These meetings, the meetings like the one I had just been at thirty minutes ago, are not just meetings. They are training sessions to help us harness and expand our power. They are planning sessions, where we research and design a fortress we are going to build around our home. They are discussions, of THE PLAN, a plan so odd, complex, and completely likely to fail that we rarely talk of it. This plan is only talked about in whispers in the most secret places. This plan is what has the fate of the world in its hands.

This fabled plan has to be put into action in several weeks, or else the world will literally be blown up. The Cattish scientist, Aberforth, went to Earth and stole the formula for an atomic bomb. He is going to give it to the infinitely evil Vubien in three weeks and then they plan to destroy civilization, except for themselves, of course. Nobody knows about this plot except for Hanna, Raven, Sealie and I. THE PLAN is so unlikely to fail because it involves saving the world and saving our own lives- something that has never been accomplished before in our world.

This zooms around my head obnoxiously. Its a few moments before I realize that it isn’t the thoughts that are not zooming, but a small delivery bird. IT is what has been zooming around my head. It has a stiff white letter in its claws and I pry the letter out of them. I start reading at once.

My Dear Katherine Meowie,

I have been informed of your certain gifts, and I think you know which ones I am talking about. These gifts of which I now speak are NOT your decided talent for writing, but your power- raw power as we call it.

Yes, Miss Katherine, there is a “we.” I and my colleagues are gathering all the young folk with raw power and desire to teach and test them.

Indeed, Miss Katherine, we will test you and your friends too. I have been enlightened on your other obligations. All of the children who we wish to school do indeed already have lives and commitments, so, to make this work, we are prepared to give you a home schooling course that you, and your twin Hanna Meowie, will help teach all your other friends who have power. Every month, you will spend four days at our school to review and test the material you have covered.

Good-day to you.

Karrie Katmund

 (P.S Please send your answer by way of the messenger bird)

It is too much to handle. I sink into one of the squishy armchairs in the lounge. I hear running footsteps and lookup. Seven other clueless faces look at me with despair. What does it mean? How do we know that it is not prank mail?

Amy breaks the silence first.”I simply don’t see how they found out about our power. We didn’t tell anybody.”  I knead my forehead with my hands. “I think it is real.” I say at length. “And I think we should accept.” A torrent of replies attacks me.

“Preposterous! This could be prank mail and we would look like fools!” Amy shrieks.

“There is some wisdom in that.” Hanna decides.” We are at war, and we need to know how to defend ourselves.

“But how?” Raven demands. “For all we know we will be canaries in a coal mine! We could be wounded in this experiment.

“Yes,” Amy muses. “Look at this, kitty.” I read the part of her letter which she directs me to read.

Miss Amy, this academy, FurBall Academy, was made to test our theory on how to advance young people’s power to a level of control. You will be nurtured…

I stopped reading there. “They must be confident that their theory will work if they want to test it on children.” I say hiding my doubt. This is Amy that I’m arguing with and she won’t give up on her idea until she has proven in every possible way that she is right.

“I agree with Kitty.” Sealie says fervently, jotting down his answer on the back of his letter and giving it to the bird. “I do too,” Hanna says, copying Sealie. Eventually everyone does so, and the birds fly off. We wait for the answers for fifteen minutes until I assure them that the birds won’t return for a while. We go downstairs to make dinner.

When the birds return, giving letters of accepting us, they also tell us to bring along 200 m’s to pay for school supplies (they will take us to a village that sells supplies) and that they start of term is September 5. I can see the gears churning in everyone’s head:

1.       We have one week before term.

2.       Term is one week.

3.       We will have on week to save the world.

1.        

                                   CHAPTER THREE

                                    FurBall Academy

Telling our parents, or in my family’s case: legal guardians, was torture. They protested, but eventually we convinced them that it was for the best. Now that we are on our way, a sense of dread is hanging in the air.

As we approach the school, we realize that the school is really a large brick building with clusters of tents around it. Headmistress Karrie Katmund herself greets us herself, and informs us that we will be sleeping in the tents. “You will LOVE it here, I promise! She gushes. We would be thankful, but we are too busy shaking.

We are all summoned to a cluster of tents with a jaguar on them. There the headmistress leaves us to gather our wits and courage. “I can’t wait for the start of classes!” I exclaim before I can help myself. I am a lover of learning and I have dreamt of having a challenging school course since the day of my birth. “On the pamphlet it said that on orientation day we’ll be able to choose classes and will we given schedules.” Amy said, checking a crystal mirror to see if her lip gloss was on right. “I heard that there is a healing class!” Lucky says quietly, shivering with expectation.

We talk until we are summoned to lunch, where an elegant feast awaits us. Including us, there must be twenty students in all, and some of them I don’t especially like. Hanna and Lucky start chatting with two particularly amiable girls, both of which look delighted to be at school. We eat until we are stuffed and look at the headmistress.

“As you know, you are all special. You would not be here if you were in any way ordinary.” She begins. A mean looking girl smirks. “But you all are special also in the way that you need help. Tomorrow you will select and purchase materials for your classes. You will select a minimum of three classes. Good night.” With that, we all exit.

“It wasn’t very poetic.” The mean girl says critically. I sigh. “I’m ready for bed,” I say to my friends, and we settle in for the night.

I wake with Hanna and Lucky sleeping peacefully besides me. It is so nice to feel relaxed and out home in a foreign place. This sense of comfort resides with me until a minute later when I realize that breakfast is in a half-an-hour. There are eight of us, so I dash out to awaken everyone while Hanna wakes Lucky. When we are all up, we dash to breakfast barely in time.

“We,” the headmistress says,” are going to be handing out a class list for you to fill out. Simply circle the classes you want to take.” There is a rustle of papers flying and I get mine.

Your Classes:

Basic Healing

Dark Magic

Combat

Plants

Magical Theory

Magic and Nature

Magic and Food

I gulp. All of these classes sound very difficult. However… I glance over at my friends. Pup is circling ‘Cooking with Food’ rapidly, and Hanna and Lucky are both going for healing. I look at my paper again. These classes don’t sound TOO hard, I guess. Actually they sound interesting.

I make Final decision. I take my pen in my hand. Slowly I cross out all the classes that I want to take.

Your Classes:

Basic Healing

Dark Magic

Combat

Plants

Magical Theory

Magic and Nature

Magic and Food

Oh dear. What did I get myself into, I think quietly. “Classes will begin tomorrow, and today we will go shopping for materials. You all brought 200 m’s each, right?” Amy tosses her ears indignantly. The Headmistress sees this and adds “The village where we are going to shop has lots of items, so you can buy lots more things, if you want.”

Thirty minutes later we are all gathered around a circle on the floor. It isn’t like anything I’ve seen before. It is made of glass and has purple swirls in it. The headmistress makes us step on it. “There is another circle just like this in HoffTown, so this circle will take us there. On my command, One! Two! Three!” We step on and an immense tugging jerks me away from the ground. I’m helpless until I right the ground, where we all collapse. I pick myself up and stumble in the direction the Headmistress is leading.

I can’t breathe for a second. In front of me is the cutest little town in the history of magic. All of the animals have some sort of staff. There are little shops selling books on power and magic, and bubbling, and spells, and my favorite: staves.

You can go shopping to your heart’s content, but remember, this is your shopping list. She hands us a shopping list.

You Will Need:

·       1 staff

·       1 copy :

o   Healing or Killing Plants of Today (Plants/Basic Healing)

o   Torrents of Wind: Dark Spells (Dark Magic)

o   Combat Spells (Combat Magic)

o   Magical Cooking (Magic and Food)

o   Magic and Nature (Magic and Nature)

o   A Magical Theory (Magical Theory)

You may also buy additional items at your own cost.

My siblings have vanished into all the different shops. I grin as I step into the book shop. I stand, dumbfounded as I look. All my life I have wanted to have as many books as I could read, and here is the golden opportunity.

The old man who runs the book shop helps me finding all my books and recommends getting them all 2^nd-hand, so that I can get extra books within my budget. I stumble off, my arms full of books, and head to a shop that looks a bit less magical and a bit more practical: a bag shop. In no time I have purchased a large leather bag, paper, pens, and a new hat before I head to the most interesting shop: the staff shop.

The antique door to the dirt floor has me in Goosebumps. I have dreamt of this too, and here I am: getting a staff. There are staves of every kind: green, blue, gold, plastic, be-jeweled, and wooden. There are staves that Amy could afford and staves which I could buy a million of. There are many of each kind, but I prefer a one of a kind, and one catches my attention.

It is gorgeous, really. Its silver color and the way it looks like a real brand branch. “How much is it?” I breathe to the grumpy looking dog. “A real bargain,” he grunts “100 m’s,” I  look at him is disbelief. “It’s made of platinum.” He explains. I nod fervently, to show that I understand. “People say it’s cursed.” He mumbles. “Dangerous, they say,”

“I don’t mind a bit of a curse.” I say stoutly. “I don’t believe in curses.”  He looked at me. “That’s what the last one said. “He mutters. I purchase it because it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen and walk out the door.

There isn’t much to do other than wait for the others. I have already bought second-hand books from the bookstore; I don’t intend to check out the bar; and the apothecary looks rather frightening. Soon enough, everyone gathers about, showing me their staves. Apparently Sealie, Raven, and I are the only ones taking all the classes. In order to get into a good high school, I can only get the most credit possible, and one can only get credit by taking lots of classes with really high score.

No doubt my ambitions are hard, but I don’t have a choice, I say to myself as I go over tomorrow’s lessons. I yawn to myself and put the book down on the table. Tonight is not a good night to stay up late.

                                   CHAPTER FOUR

                                Dog Days

It was my mere determination to excel in everything that allowed me to get through the hard days to come. The classes are long and difficult. And Polly Purronna (the mean faced girl) and I had become enemies. I can say with pride that I beat her in every subject.

Sealie, Raven, and I are the top of every class; Hanna and Lucky ace every subject that they take; and Amy is frankly charming and therefore scrapes good enough marks. It is wonderful, and I love every minute of it. But I’m not saying that it isn’t hard. Each class is roughly and hour long, and I am taking seven classes. Also, I need to be studying often, and there simply isn’t enough time!

However, I can still go outside and explore the large ground while reading a textbook, and I can still write an essay while gobbling down the wonderful food. I love business and I am usually the last one up at night. The most obnoxious thing is that Raven gets the same scores as I, but without half as much studying. He will be play a card game with Sealie while I am pouring through a text book.

Life moves on, and it is the last day at FurBall is drawing near. It makes sense that it has gone quickly, because we were scheduled to stay at school for a week, but I will definitely miss the old place. I just asked the headmistress if I could get more books to do until next month, and she offers me and even better deal.

“Do you have any money, Katherine?” She asks briskly. “I bought all my books second-hand, so yes, m’am.” I reply nervously. “You will buy a carrier bird and send all your finished books to the book-store owner, and he will give you more to read.” She says tartly. Pointing to the circle that will transport me to the village, she commands me. “Go to the village. You know what to do.” Then she walks off.

“She is an odd woman.” I say to myself, as I am whisked away. My feet hit the ground and I set off in search of the bird shop. I find that the shop is actually a hut filled with birds and their droppings. A fat kindly looking old woman nods her toothless head at me, and I choose.

Should I get and Eagle? No. I think that they are too flashy. I look around at all the birds and settle on a falcon. I have always loved falcons, and they seem interesting. I buy the basic bird-care gear and set off, the falcon, which I intend to call Wynter, on my staff.

I go into the book shop, where the store owner greets me, and readily agrees to send me more books. “Just write out on a little piece of paper what you want, and you’re bird will give me the paper and the book you’ve read!” he says. I thank him and go back to the circle. (something tells me that Wynter doesn’t like it) and in no time I’ve reached the school.

My friends, although they try to hide it, are jealous. They think that there isn’t much of a reason for ME to get a bird, so they ask the headmistress, and she is inclines to agree. Lucky got a sparrow; Amy got a dove; Scurvie and Pup got eagles; Raven got a raven; Sealie got a snowy owl, and Hanna got a robin. All was well and we were heading off to home.

We are greeted with only a hint of jealousy from our family. I promptly sit down and start reading. I love learning about all the plants that could kill or heal, or how some of our greatest rulers actually were struggling at controlling their power and changing it into magic while ruling a country. 

I love reading; it takes away my troubles, or seems to. But every day I have to put my book down and face facts: Amy is failing rapidly in all her subjects that didn’t involve getting more beautiful; Pup doesn’t have interest in any of his lessons but Magic and Food; Raven is starting to get self-righteous for excelling in everything with ease. Hanna, Lucky, and I remain the only ones who seem to be working extra hard.

We are busy all day. Sealie and Raven have spent days building a racetrack of sorts that they race enchanted toy cars on. Amy, confident in her charm to get her good grades, spends her time trying on clothes and putting more makeup on. Scurvie is working on a mimic-charm that allowes him to stab and slash with one sword and have another sword mimic it. Hanna is working on a collection of potions to help Meow-Meow, who is feeling sickly. Lucky gathers plants, draws them, labels them, and dries them to her heart’s content, and I read, write, and do all my homework. It isn’t a bad system. We all gained what we wanted, “But,” as I told Hanna later that week “what we want isn’t always what is best for us.”

“For instance,” I continue, “I don’t want to save the world, but if we don’t do it within this week, the world will end.”

We have an emergency meeting the next morning. We totally forgot about saving the world, and the plan was told to all of the younger children. “The plan,” I say, “is this. Our home, Mt. Wish, gives off wishes to everyone on the hour it turns 500 years older. “ I look at them.” Right.” they say earnestly.

“We used those wishes a year ago.” I say. There is a shudder of disappointment. “But,” I go on.” there is a crystal in the center of the mountain. It turns every year and it makes a full circle by 500 years. The mountain gives wishes once a full circle is complete. This crystal,” I pull out a handwritten map, “Is in the center of the mountain where the Whuffers plan to build their elevator.”

“It has already been dug out, so we really only need to get to the crystal, and get a wish back.” There is a long silence, before Amy pipes up. “So all we need to do is wish for the world to be saved, and it will?”

Hanna answers for me. “No. That wish won’t hide all the nasty feeling that the Abeish have, and so we are really just post-poning the war. They will still have their weapons also.” The very air in the room starts to feel grim. “How are we going to do it, then?” Lucky whispers and I grin.

“That,” I admit, “is one of my more brilliant ideas. We are going to move Mt. Wish to Wolverine.” I wait for everyone to process what I have just said. “Oh dear.” Amy whispers. “Oh dear.”

We march through the cold tunnel to the center of the mountain. We each have a flashlight, but they really don’t help. All they do is make us surer that the ceiling is going to collapse on us any second.

My team is behaving very well, and as they march through this creepy tunnel, I can’t help but be proud. Actually, that is what Hanna tells me. I am at the top of Mt. Wish, the part where the latter part of our mountain’s name is based on. I am waiting, alone for the signal.

I am hoping very much that this plan will work. What could go wrong? Almost anything. But really, if you think about it, Wolverine is the safest place on the planet. It is surrounded by volcanoes, rocks, whirlpools, and monsters, but it itself is a sunny paradise. Also, the population is mainly wolves, so you don’t find a weak fighter among them. It is our only hope of survival.

My walkie-talkie makes static noises and I hear Pup’s solemn voice say “It’s time.” I gulp and climb up to the peak of the mountain. The air is so thin I can barely breathe. After a minute of hard climbing, I get to the peak, which really isn’t very pointy. It has been leveled so that only smooth stone remains for a floor. It reminds me of the circle that takes us to the village at school, except this one is cut from raw stone.

A cloud is gathering over the peak of the mountain, and its chill is spreading of me. I should have worn armer clothes. It feels sinister, so I hesitate, but, after a moment’s pause, begin:

“The great mountain tall looks over the blackened world which many a soul calls home. To only the most noble, to only the bravest, to only he of pure heart will the Mountain Tall grant a wish. He who climbs this mountain seeks a wish. I am he who is in want, and I am he who fulfills the requirements.”

I stop and listen. In a moment a deep voice reumbles.

If you fulfill the requirements, if you are in want, if you have climbed this Mount, your wish will be granted. In five hundred years I will wake and again I shall bestow a wish. Step forward, seeker, and ask,

I gulp, and step onto the circle. This is ultimately what will save or kill my family. This phrasing matters so much that I feel dizzy. “Uproot this mountain and re-plant it in Wolverine.” I say hoarsely. I wait for half a second and then there is the most powerful sensation. First, a jerk upward leaves me on my back and the wind threatens to kill me, then a sensation knocks me off the mountain. The mountain is moving fast, terribly fast, and I am slipping down. The mountain is pushing through the air at an incredible rate behind me. It is moving so fast that I have stopped falling for a little bit. Then the mountain must have slowed a bit because I am continuing to fall. A sapling smacks me in the fast and I clutch at it for dear life. If I fall down any more, then I will be below the mountain and nothing will keep me from falling.

The sapling, which is my lifeline, can’t be more than a few years old, and I will be astounded if it survives this encounter. It is bending, and I can almost see me fall. Then I am falling, and I am about to die.

                                    CHAPTER FIVE

                                        Heroics

Something catches me, and I realize that it is Raven. He must have borrowed a jet pack from Amy, because he is zipping along, following the mountain. “We are almost to Wolverine.” He tells me. We can’t have been flying five minutes yet. “How?” I ask. “This is one of Amy’s high speed jet packs, so we’re going about the speed of light.” Raven informs me. “Also, “he adds, “you’re heavy.”  I grumble about this and he drops me off in the tunnel with the others.

They are, indeed, freaked out. Amy has been trying to calm herself by putting on makeup, but her hands were shaking so badly when she put it on that she looks like a clown. I refrain from mentioning this to her. And we wait. It seems like an hour but it was only a couple minutes until we got to Wolverine. The mountain crashed to earth and we got out of the tunnel.

We skipped and danced with joy. We had saved ourselves! The Abeish wouldn’t dare attack Wolverine, and the world could fight it out while we were in peace.

Something about that thought doesn’t seem right. Thousands of comments, fan mail, and emails have reached us since starting Not Yet Caught, and every one of the messages was from innocent people, who were going to have to fight a battle that they couldn’t win. We could be the only survivors from Catland.

Amy is skipping around. I run over to her. “Amy,” I say to her. “I need to borrow a jet pack.” Amy studies me and glares at me. “I demand an explanation. It is too late to save the rest of the world.” She scolds me. I wince.”I could destroy the formula in time for them to make only a since bomb.” I insist. Amy scans me and says, “You can borrow it, on one condition.”  I sigh with relief. “Thank you!” I exclaim. But Amy continues. “The condition is this: I’m coming with you.”

I stare at her. “What?” I say flabbergasted. Amy can barely do any magic that involved anything other than making herself more beautiful, she cannot fight, she cannot basically, do anything that will make her help me. “Me too!”  Six other voices say. The eavesdroppers come out of a nearby bush and stand resolutely. “Face it, Kitty,” Amy says. “We’re all in this together.” I sigh. “Fine,” I say, “But we have to leave NOW.”

We have to be the oddest rescue team in history- eight kids on sparkly pink jet packs. We zip and the speeds of light to the Abeish headquarters, and fly into the courtyard. “Come on,” I whisper to my friends. We tip-toe silently to a room that seems to be next to the conference room. I had thought it was a broom closet, but it wasn’t. It was much larger than a broom cupboard.

It was a trap.

“Guys!” I hissed. “Get out NOW!” It is all I can do to not yell. We dart to the door, but it slams before we can get out. A cold evil voice bites at me like the bindings which dogs in black suits tie around my wrist. “Honored, simply honored… to think that the famous, brave, simply terrific Not Yet Caught group would come and visit me. I never thought that little me would be able meet you.”

I can’t remember the last time I was so scared. We were going to die, just like the rest of the world would. The blog title “Not Yet Caught laughed in our faces, as the Abeish dictator himself sneered at us. “you are here,” he continued, “to do three very important things.” He smirked and counted on his fingers. “number one: to witness the recipe for the bomb be handed over to me, number two: to write your farewells post to all your little fans, declaring the glory of the Abeish, and number three: to die.”

“Now then,” he clapped his hands twice. A scraggly looking scientist limped over and handed a wrinkled piece of paper to the dictator with great decorum. “Now for that goodbye piece…” he smirked and handed us laptops.

I sign in to my blog account and tremble. What I say or do will give the nation despair or hope. Why did I have to start that blog anyway? We wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me. I felt sick. But I was ready to make it right. I can’t write well, but I am ready to write the biggest post of my life.

Dear Friends,

As you have probably been told, we have indeed, been captured by the Abeish. For various reasons they think that we are being impertinent. Am I impertinent?  YES. And I believe I have a reason to be. We can only be strong united, and the Abeish aren’t that. Atomic bombs won’t keep away the secret that they are in ruins. Their people are rebelling, they have no allies, and their army of made of men who were forced to fight.

We are strong, but yet we cower in fear. Why? I love my country and am dying for it. I take my leave and will beg my dear guards for perhaps a post in which I can write my will.

Kitty Meowie

(P.S I thought you’d like to know that as I am pushing the “Publish” button, I will die. Goodbye.)

I am shaking. My fingers tremble. I push the “Publish” button, and wait for the door to slam. In ten seconds I hear a crash and a roar of rage. About ten seconds before our door opens, I catch a grin from Amy and catch flash of silver. Those stupid Abeish- they forgot to disarm us. Amy passes a knife to me, as I am the end of the line, and I cut my bonds. She motions to the heating duct, which was swinging open. I get the plan. I must distract the dictator long enough for everyone else to get in the grate.

The door opens and the dictator comes in. All his composure is long gone, and his face is purple. “HOW COULD YOU…” he sputters, but I cut him off cold. “ ‘How could you?’ “ I ask in scornful voice that is not my own. “No! How could YOU, Is the real question. You robbed Abeland of its pride, you demolished lives, you wrecked life in general, and you have the indecency to yell at me for publishing a couple paragraphs?” I glance at him and he is speechless. The plan is working. “Shame on you! What is the point in killing everything? Did you ever ask yourself that ONCE?” Everyone is through the grate by now. A guard nudges the dictator and points to the camera. I had forgotten that our capture was being broadcasted on life television and everyone on the planet was forced to watch it. Every eye was on me.

The dictator remembers and forcs a look of scorn on his face. “You are SO dead, girl.” He spits at me. He gets out a gun and points it at me. “You know what?” I say. “I don’t think I am!” I speed off into the grate and the bullets banged off the walls. The grate leads to the courtyard, where everyone is in their jetpacks, waiting. The dictator comes running toward us, filming us so the whole world can see us. The atomic bomb in the dictator’s hand is forgotten. We shoot up into the air, and the dictator grabs an Abeish jet-pack. He and few guards follow us. We are far, far away from the dictator, but we can still see the explosion. He must have dropped the atomic bomb in outrage, because it engulfs the headquarters, and the unfortunate Abeish.

We go home, stunned, and we find that our parents have noticed nothing.

“That was a strong bit of wind we had earlier.” Mrs. Pirate-Dog says. “Did you children have a fun time playing?”

“We saved the world!” Scurvie says proudly.

Mrs. Pirate-Dog beamed. “That’s my Scurvie!” She said to Amy’s mom. “He and Pup have a knack for imagining things. Once he and Pup pretended to be knights!”

I don’t think they got it.