I used to love litening to the radio as a child. I remeber how in the moring my mother had it playing in the kitchen while she was making breakfeast. She would just smile and sway her hips to the music all whille stirring the eggs in the pan. It is still one of my favorite memories. We used to sit on the living room playing while my mother read on the couch and my dad worked on fixing another broken thing in kitchen. But as we got older and the war started to esclate, my fondness for the radio turned into hatred. Everyday came with new broadcast about how there was another protest about the violence followed by more sounds of screams and chaotic blasts and sounds of building crumbling in the background.
I joined the milita at the ripe age of 15. By then the war had reached my village, half of my neighbors had lost someone. Some were causalties and some joined either the milta while others joined the weapon smugglers. My best friend died when we were 13 in a building collaspe after it was hit with blast from a magic weapon from that the smugglers had aimed at a milita memeber. From then on I vowed that i would save and protect those who couldn't protect themselves.