Tsar Bomba

picture by Bernhard Ellefsen

In English, we’ve been working on writing right in the moment of the action. In my piece I’m writing about a girl stuck in a bunker after the world has been bombed, she’s writing letters to her mom in her journal. I think in this piece of writing  I  use my writing to lead up to a moment and create suspense. I also wrote in journal form, and purposefully used no grammar to create a vibe as though she was just writing herself because it lets the reader understand her situation more.

Day 5110

11:51 am

We’re going to sneak out. Tonight. i’m leading 15 of us to the top of the bunker. We still don’t have the code. i don’t know if we’re gonna make it out. There’s constant surveillance and guards. We have 3 minutes exactly to open the door and cross 150 meters until we reach a ladder that’ll take us all they way out. We will be hunted, of course, even after we get out. But the danger really lies inside. There are fumes, acid rain, and weird creature breed of the radioactive material, and yet here in the bunker, it is worse.

i need to get out of here. 14 years… i can’t handle it anymore. i am lucky. i am lucky compared to the ones who were born here. They have it worse. They have never witnessed the outside. Ever. not before the bombing and definitely not after. No one has,though. Except for the gathers. Once a month they head out, they come back alive, so i do suppose that we could stay alive. in a sense i think they’re my hope. They go outside and they come out alive so, why can’t i.

Though they are only out there for a few days, whereas we intend to find somewhere to stay. i don’t know what to do. i’m one of the only one who’s been on the outside for long… other than the elders. But the world has changed drastically since then. i can only expect what they’ve told us, and it’s not good.

We’re taking children with us for god’s sake! But i guess they need it more than we do. Being locked up down here does stuff to you. The old murky walls, the small lifeless rooms, and the constant sense of pressure on you. You are always aware, constantly. it can drive one insane to be always conscious. Watching the nonstop beat of the dim lights flickering on and off is the only thing that i can do now to relieve my boredom. And of course this journal.

i don’t know if i’m going to continue writing when we get out… if we get out. i guess it’ll depend if we have time if we can survive… i’m worried sick.

i must go there coming for noon check.

Lots of Love, your daughter

10:06 pm

Hello, mama. i just want to tell you one last goodbye. i don’t know if my journal will ever find you, let alone if you, papa, and Mikial are still alive. But i want to say, as i don’t know if i can write later… that i love all of you too pieces. We’ve been separated for roughly thirteen years and 355 days. And every day is worse than the last.

You could still be in the bunker, i don’t know, i know now that i will never find out.

Can you believe i trusted them! How could i, even when they took all of you away, i believed they had a good reason. im truly sorry i trusted them, i am sorry for you, papa and little dear Mikial, i am sorry for myself, but most of all i am sorry for us, i am sorry that we can not be together. i love you all so much. Truly. its hard to love things that have been gone for so long, especially down here. But. i love you.

i’ve decided  to leave it here. My journal. Just in case you are still here. Or maybe some poor desperate child will find my journal, and they too will learn just how corrupted our safety net truly is. Maybe i shall write a goodbye message to them too. No i don’t believe i will, they will learn from reading the rest of this journal. And this was intended for you. So it will be. You have been the only thing that has pushed me to leave. So now i will leave. Goodbye, mamma, pappa, my darling brother, i love you all to above the stars, above this mess of a place.