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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:53:29 GMT -8
Date: I honestly don't know, all I know is that it's summer and I'm Seven years old.
Dear Journal,
Well, supposedly Mr. Weridas, the Prime Minister of Canada, believes that it is time for me to start writing a journal to express myself. The only reason I don't express myself is because i don't want to get beaten for having "personal opinions" again. I am seven years old and my life is... different. Mr. Weridas found me when I was only two years old and brought me up with the other people who run Canada. They told me ever since I can remember that I'm different from other people, not as human as they were. I never did like it when they called me by my country's name. I am not Canada, why don't they understand that?
Today was interesting though. I was taught how to speak French, Spanish and Mandarin because the Canadian military wanted my help in translating some of the missives that were being sent between some bad men, or at least that's what the Government told me. Lately I've been beginning to doubt what they tell me. Sometimes I get strange nightmares and they scare me, but I can't go to anyone because they would use it against me. I don't know why but some part of me balks at the thought of revealing my dreams to them. -slight smear of ink against the page- i have to go, Mr. Douglas is here and he's angry with me because of my screaming last night. I didn't even know i screamed during my nightmares, it must have been bad.
Matthew Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:53:55 GMT -8
Date: Winter and I am Eight years old
Dear Journal,
I hate it here... it's a hell on earth and I want to leave. They hurt me, they hurt me badly today. I had translated a missive between two of the so-called bad men that they were having me do and i read it. The government is trying to take over. The missive was between China and Russia and they were talking about joining forces against the, and I quote, "Canadian threat to the new world and its' peoples." Of course, stupid me had to confront Mr. Weridas, Mrs. Jenkins and Mr. Douglas about it and they were so angry with me. I didn't know that they wanted info on the other Reborn Nations so they could capture them. I had never been more glad that I kept my dreams to myself. If they ever found out I have seen their faces in my dreams they would not be safe.
Other than that, Mrs. Williams, the one government official that was kind to me, she was fired and killed for treason against the government. She was nice to me, kind, looked after me. I Hate Them! I wish they would die! -the paper is littered with soft wet spots from tears- I guess that's what happens when I go against the government, my prison and home. I don't know what to do, I don't. I can't escape or run away, there's no where else to go. No one would take me in, I know it. -there's a large ink spot where the pen was shoved hard into the page- I suppose that's all for tonight Journal, thanks for listening.
Matthew Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:54:27 GMT -8
Date: Spring and I am nine years old
Dear Journal,
I'm scared. Mr. Weridas is frightening me. He's acting so weird and strange. He'll be really nice one moment, patting my head and holding my hand and giving me hugs, then the next moment his is spewing curses at me and hitting me. I don't understand what's going on. The others, they're keeping away from Mr. Weridas and often shoving me towards him when he's in the odd moods. It scared me and -a line is dragged across the page and a splatter of blood hits the book-
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:54:52 GMT -8
Date: Fall and I'm nine... I think
Dear Journal,
I'm not sure who i am right now. Mrs. Jenkins and Mr. Douglas keep on telling me that i am nine years old and was nearly beaten to death by a Mr. Weridas, the former prime minister of Canada. The others are often treating me like glass and often call me Canada and Matthew. I don't know what is going on and I'm slightly frightened of what's going on. Everything is so confusing and I'm not sure of what's happening. Well, i suppose I'll sign off.
Matthew Williams?
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:55:15 GMT -8
Date: Summer and I am Ten years old
Dear Journal,
I remember everything. They thought they could start anew with my amnesia, that they could trick me into being obedient again and to tell them everything about me. No, I remember. I remember trying to fight back against the now dead Mr. Weridas, the man trying to attack and rape me. I had gone over my entries in here and I remembered.
One of the government military officials had heard me screaming and shot Mr. Weridas dead and by that time, from what I can barely remember, I was half dead on the floor, struggling to maintain consciousness and to get away from the dead body. I must have fainted and that is why I have a military persona guarding my doors during the night and looks out for me during the day.
Things have changed, but I no longer trust any of them. I had overhead them mentioning that if I was of no use to them, they would keep me locked up to see if anything bad was happening to the country to know ahead of time. It seems that I am tied to the country I live in, and their incessant claims of me being the fabled Canada might be true. I don't want to remember and I repress my dreams and nightmares. I am forcing myself to forget them, because I do not want anyone else going through my hell on earth.
Matthew Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:55:53 GMT -8
Date: Winter and I am eleven years old
Dear Journal,
I'm learning self-defense from the military. Yes, that's right, self-defense. The government isn't happy with it, and they have been trying to make me stop going to lessons, but I am not going to give this up. I actually have a chance of making it somewhere and doing something that I can be good at. I'm going through with it and if it means I'll have more protection from the governmental bastards who like beating me up, the better.
I don't mean to sound so cold, but I suppose my existence in this place was never really about my self as it is now, but in how I was before, in my past lives. It's such an odd thing to say, but ever since I tried repressing my dreams and, shall we say, memories, they've been attacking me during the day, thankfully when I can hide them. It's becoming more and more obvious that I am Canada. It scares me to realize this, but then again I have never grown up normally, not like how the others are hopefully doing. At least they haven't been captured by the government, not like I was.
I actually found out a tidbit that I overheard when training with the soldiers and military. It seems that the other governments heard of my presence here in Canada and wish for me to travel to their lands to help them find out where their own personifications are. I grow tired of being used so much, but I am excited to travel by ship across the seas. Something in me thrills at the thought and I am counting down the days until we leave.
Matthew Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:56:18 GMT -8
Date: Spring and I am Twelve years old
Dear Journal,
Finally we were out at sea and I've never been so happy in my life. I don't know how to describe it, it's like I've come home, and I always keep expecting two men and a young boy to come running around the corner to greet me and give me affection. Something about the sea just gives me peace. A lot of the sailors said I was sea-touched, a child borne of the waves and of the land. Somehow I liked what they said and it seemed to solidify in the minds of the government and the military that i am indeed Canada.
We were nearing the second leg of our journey when I spotted an odd ship out on the horizon of the ocean, an odd black flag waving on the mast of the vessel. I had pointed it out to the others when Mrs. Valern had scooped me up and carried me into the cabin in which I was staying with the women on the ship. I stayed quiet and listened to the battle raging outside. I had found a port hole and watched the battle outside, flashes of memories filling my head.
One of the younger sailors, a young man by the name of James Portland was being attacked and I couldn't stand by and watch him die. I had raced out there, grabbed a knife from the floor and immediately jumped on the man's back, easily sliding the knife into his rib cage. He dropped dead and I landed on the floor, spinning around so my back was against James'. We both fought together and the sailors, military and I helped win the battle. Somehow during the fighting I heard the pirates call me a "violet-eyed devil" the name ringing a bell in my head.
After that we managed to land at the shore of France and met with a few people. They asked me to find the personification of France and brought men before me. I had already felt that the man was no longer here so I said nothing, none of the men ringing a bell for me. Afterwards we had left and returned home, more traveling in store for me to find others. But, I've been given hope. If others could escape, so can I.
Matthew (Canada) Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:56:42 GMT -8
Date: Fall and I am Thirteen years old
Dear Journal,
Something is going on. The government and the military are keeping me locked up in my room. I am slowly getting claustrophobic and it driving me crazy. I hate being alone and forced to stay in one area. Everyday I thank the gods for the window in my room or else i would have dissolved into tears and trying to rip at my skin.
The days are passing in blurs and as they go on the idea of escaping sounds more and more desirable as time goes on. I have begun making plans, and many of them are slightly foolish but others might just work. I have started growing my hair out and pulling it into a braid against my back. It gives me something to do and keeps my mind from falling into the memories and dreams that have been hitting me like crazy. Most nights I wake in tears and screams, wishing to death that most of the people who live in the government and military hadn't soundproofed my room. I am scared and I need to leave, to figure out how to leave.
Matthew Canada Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:57:14 GMT -8
Date:October 31st, fourteen years old
Dear Journal,
I've decided. I'm leaving on my birthday, July first when I turn fifteen to run away and escape this hell. I have been collecting feminine clothes to wear and I have been saving what little coin I can find for the journey. I am going to do it as a young fifteen year old female to try and escape the watchful eyes of the government and the military. I've been watching how females and male act around themselves and others, picking up on subtle hints on what to do and how to do it.
It's strange, realizing that I will be escaping this place and finding a new one to live at. A place where I can be like the other humans, to truly find out who I really am and what I like. I -pen jerks to a halt as the book closes, slid under a hiding spot. reopens and blood drops onto the page.- it seems that something went wrong with what I translated and it ended up ruining something important. I was beaten by both the military and the government. I cannot wait until I run away and find a new home.
Matthew Canada Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:57:37 GMT -8
Date: July first, fifteen years old
Dear Journal,
I did it. I escaped from that hell hole! I am now aboard the "Queen Sea" to head to Tortuga, a place where I hope and pray to find lodging and a home. I am not actively looking for a ship or anything like what I told the man at the harbor front. I am running away and finding myself a true home. I had picked out a gorgeous black corset, dark red blouse, thick black skirt, black heeled boots with red thread and a pair of dark red gloves. I had also brought my favorite red and black japanese umbrella with me. I had a soft pattern of white maple leaves on it with green thread, the bamboo hiding a steel frame which I could use to defend myself with.
I immediately headed down towards the quieter area of the ship, hiding in the stores for the trip, thankful for the windows there that allowed light in and a way for me to see out and where we were going. I had a small black purse with me, holding the coin and make-up I needed to hide from the rest of the world that I was male. I had pinned my hair up into a bun with the extra hair cascading down my back. It allowed me a kind of secrecy and kept me from being recognizable. I had also slid a pair of red sunglasses on to disguise my purple eyes from sight.
As the ship sailed off from the port I had noticed men and women alike looking for someone who looked like the male me. None of the people recognized me and I got away. I still can't believe that I'm going to make it to Tortuga, but now I know I am in control of my own destiny and it is exciting.
Matthew Canada Williams
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Post by Arthur Kirkland on Oct 16, 2010 12:57:57 GMT -8
Date: July 14, fifteen years old
Dear Journal,
As it turns out, I managed to land and hold a job at the Salty Sea, and am now living with the other women who work at the bar. It is an interesting experience and I am really enjoying myself, though I am trying to figure out how to create a pair of breasts to complete the disguise. They can't look too fake, but they have to be able to be easily pulled off and on. I am really having fun, though some of the Sea-Struck people love talking to me. Things are really exciting for me and I am much happier here than I had ever been before in my life. I am truly at peace here and it is a relief.
Matthew (Mattea) Williams
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