This morning my father sent me into the wasteland. I think he just wanted to get rid of me. I don't really mind because I spend every single boring day of my boring life here, farming all the time... I can't even really call it a life because I have no choice. Everything is dictated by the animals' daily regime.

But outside the world I know, when I leave our little house (or rather hut), I feel better. For those few precious hours, I feel free, I just want to run for hours, or fly like a bird high over the desert... Sometimes I wonder if outside - I mean in the "real" outside - the world is really so harsh. More and more often, my imagination goes far beyond what could be called rational. Maybe there are whole cities out there... There must be cities! I overheard something about a trader once. Unfortunately, most of the older adults (those who rule my pitiful life) don't want to tell me anything.

No matter how much I dream, it's always time to go back to the village. Usually I don't hurry, but today we have a small celebration. A bonfire and maybe even a brahmin. As I walk back I see the smoke and smell baking meat. Except this odour is different - the meat smells... odd. And the screams of my brother shouldn't be a part of the celebration. Not unless my family has converted to cannibalism today. I hate my brother, but I find myself running as fast as I can towards his screams. Doubt and fear cloud my emotions, and as I run I fear I will be too late to save my family. They're not much, but they're everything I have. My heart tells me to run, my mind tells me to stop, that it's already too late. This is the reason why my father didn't want me to stay, he must have known what was coming. I thought he hated me, but right now I see how much he loved me.

Not many people are "lucky" enough to loose their wife and find their father dead - burned beyond recognition - in the same day. At first, I want to kill myself. One single bullet* would solve all my problems. But as my luck today would have it, there isn't a single rifle left. Maybe this is fate, the real reason why I end up standing in front of a road sign pointing to Chewelah. Fifty miles of life and death (mostly death) lie between me and the nearest city. They say that sometimes a suicide requires a harsh but brave decision. But I'm like most people, a coward, afraid of the unknown and desperate to struggle through life. Who knows which choice is better? The only thing I know for sure is that my life has changed... Not the way I saw in my daydreams this morning, but it has changed and I can't go back.

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* seven point six two millimeter, full metal jacket.