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Today they destroyed more homes. Did they ever think about whose homes they were destroying? Must they benefit from destroying the homes where the innocent live? They disgust me. They disgust me even though my father tells me we’re of the same kind. We’re of the same kind yet I would wonder to myself, how can those monsters be of the same kind as me and my benevolent father?
My father was a rather astounding man. He was warm and caring. When he smiled, his face would wrinkle. His laugh was contagious and made everyone feel in on the joke. When I would cry all night, my father would hold me in his arms and sing me a lullaby. I would fall asleep in his arms and awake in my little bed in the morning. We spent a lot of time together.

    I was his princess but also his soldier. I didn’t have any brothers; or sisters for that matter. My mother died giving birth and my father never thought of remarrying because frankly, you can only find one perfect queen. I guess it never bothered me that I was both son and daughter because my father was both father and mother. He taught me everything he knew, or at least mostly everything. I knew how to build a fire, find food, cook, speak, read, and much more.

    My father couldn’t teach me everything, though. It was about ten years ago when he passed. Of course, he left me everything because we had no other relatives. One of the things I treasure most is his journal. His journal was like an encyclopedia to me. Everything I needed to know was in it. But just because it contained all the necessary knowledge I needed, it didn’t mean I knew everything there was to know about, well, everything. I was always curious. I was curious about everything. “Why does this do that?” “How does this work?” “Why this?” “Why that?” And my father would chuckle and either wave me off or give a short explanation.

    Since my father has been gone, the residents have been helping me out with everything. They knew I was having a hard time with my beloved father gone and took the liberty of gathering food and materials. Although words weren’t spoken, I believe they loved my father and thought it best to help me out because I was his precious jewel.

    Three years after my father’s passing, I was nine and had the volition to fully take over. Now I may be young but I grew up fast. Even though my father babied me some, he urged me to “woman up” as he would say because even I could tell that his time was coming. That’s why I wanted to do it for him. I wanted him to sleep all day and for me to handle everything.

    Ten years I’ve been handling everything but not one did our village look like it did today. Homeless creatures lining up to my home crowded the roads. The line was perpetual. The obstreperous children gave me a headache. There were so many of them I couldn’t even be angry at the malignant things that are “of the same kind” as me. Thankfully I wasn’t handling it all by myself. Emilia and Timothy were helping me out with their friends.

Description

Today they destroyed more homes. Did they ever think about whose homes they were destroying? Must they benefit from destroying the homes where the innocent live? They disgust me. They disgust me even though my father tells me we’re of the same kind. We’re of the same kind yet I would wonder to myself, how can those monsters be of the same kind as me and my benevolent father?
My father was a rather astounding man. He was warm and caring. When he smiled, his face would wrinkle. His laugh was contagious and made everyone feel in on the joke. When I would cry all night, my father would hold me in his arms and sing me a lullaby. I would fall asleep in his arms and awake in my little bed in the morning. We spent a lot of time together.

    I was his princess but also his soldier. I didn’t have any brothers; or sisters for that matter. My mother died giving birth and my father never thought of remarrying because frankly, you can only find one perfect queen. I guess it never bothered me that I was both son and daughter because my father was both father and mother. He taught me everything he knew, or at least mostly everything. I knew how to build a fire, find food, cook, speak, read, and much more.

    My father couldn’t teach me everything, though. It was about ten years ago when he passed. Of course, he left me everything because we had no other relatives. One of the things I treasure most is his journal. His journal was like an encyclopedia to me. Everything I needed to know was in it. But just because it contained all the necessary knowledge I needed, it didn’t mean I knew everything there was to know about, well, everything. I was always curious. I was curious about everything. “Why does this do that?” “How does this work?” “Why this?” “Why that?” And my father would chuckle and either wave me off or give a short explanation.

    Since my father has been gone, the residents have been helping me out with everything. They knew I was having a hard time with my beloved father gone and took the liberty of gathering food and materials. Although words weren’t spoken, I believe they loved my father and thought it best to help me out because I was his precious jewel.

    Three years after my father’s passing, I was nine and had the volition to fully take over. Now I may be young but I grew up fast. Even though my father babied me some, he urged me to “woman up” as he would say because even I could tell that his time was coming. That’s why I wanted to do it for him. I wanted him to sleep all day and for me to handle everything.

    Ten years I’ve been handling everything but not one did our village look like it did today. Homeless creatures lining up to my home crowded the roads. The line was perpetual. The obstreperous children gave me a headache. There were so many of them I couldn’t even be angry at the malignant things that are “of the same kind” as me. Thankfully I wasn’t handling it all by myself. Emilia and Timothy were helping me out with their friends.