The Boy of the Arms Dealer
Dad hasn’t been home in two months. I know he went out to sell his guns to those horrible raiders and although it wasn’t right, it was the only way we could keep food on the table. These days, I can tell it’s getting colder since the earth slowed down in its rotation. The morning air leaked through the torn and cracked roof and into my bedroom, which makes me shiver every morning when I wake. And a full day now would take about three full ones as compared to back then where it would just take twenty four hours, which means I had probably waited almost a year now for dad to return. But, I knew I couldn’t stay here any longer. If I don’t leave, the raiders will return and this time, they won’t be too happy. I couldn’t bring too much with me since my backpack was much smaller than dad’s. Just two small pistols, the rifle that dad had given me for my seventh birthday, some dried salty crackers and a water bottle. I walked out the door of our broken down, now abandoned house, and didn’t look back. I had left a little note for dad in case he happens to return, but I doubt it. I’ll travel west, where the closest and safer settlement was located and hopefully I could get more information on dad’s whereabouts.
