*The following is the unabridged Journal of Jeremy Edwards. An Honored patriot during the last decade of the 2104 - 2139 period of civil and military strife perpetrated by the fascist, Frederick Hartley. Presented to you in its entirety, unabridged from the Stockholm archives.
(Hash Code: #23-423-8642-1)
This is not a happy book.
This was not a happy period or a bright spot of humanity.
This will never be anyone's "Golden Age".
This was merely the survival of the human race while under great oppression of soul, mind, and body. People struggled, starved, killed, and died under brutal regimes that were the same no matter how many times they were overthrown.
Millions died and for what reason? So the inept leaders of an enslaved people could continue in their lavish life styles, insulating themselves against the stark reality they had created for their people. No, subjects, not people. They didn't think of us like that. We were scum. Fodder for their wars and slaves to their whims. Not that we knew it at the time though.
We believed we were fighting for a cause, "For the Younger Generation." So that our children would have a life free from the chaos that we had experienced. By defending our borders from the loose elements of our society, people portrayed as anarchists and cannibals.
When in reality, they were enlightened. They were the first ones. The ones who learned the truth, who were already fighting for our people. I am Jeremy Edwards. This is the story of my people’s reclamation of their former glory.
The greatest slave is the one who believes he is freely fighting for a cause.
- A Patriot
Our country is in the grips of a madman.
General Premier Frederick Hartley. His rise to power was hidden among the chaos of our many sided civil war that gradually subsided with him at the top. His regime bred discontent with its soul gripping control of the minds of his people.
Numerous resistance groups were formed. But every time one would begin to gain popularity, or their actions began to have an effect on his supply lines, He would mercilessly crush them. Nothing would ever be heard from the group ever again.
If anyone went to investigate the safe houses they would've found stripped rooms. Just four naked walls; No debris, no bodies, not even any crumbs on the floor. Everything was just gone. Then they’d normally torch the neighborhood in order to force docility from the locals. Those that survived anyway would insure that no other resistance groups would be welcome there.
In the year 2259 I was conscripted by Premier Hartley's "North Western Confederation 768th Infantry Corps.”
They caught me two blocks away from my lay-up hole.
I had been walking through the local grey market. A place where semi-legal goods were bought and sold within the residential sector. It spanned roughly one city block and was gated and sentries provided cursory fore-warning against government sponsored raids.
Because of that, it was one of the less dangerous places in my city. Vendors plied their wares, calling out prices and produce, the smells emanating from a booth selling fried potato cakes mixed with the smells from a soup vendor. I bought a small bowl of a thin vegetable soup with the rest of the wages I had earned the following week, 150 Amero’s, and headed toward back toward my home for the current week.
I guess the guards were bribed or threatened to sell us out. Or maybe we were just that lucky. Either way, I walked past a stand selling simulated meat pasties, enjoying the smells, sights, and sounds. But then, before I could do anything, the northern gate shut and government soldiers poured through the other entrances.
Following the soldiers, several armed transports moved through the southern gate. They stopped just inside and disgorged more soldiers. They pushed and shoved us toward the wall. Several people were shot for “Resisting.” Their bodies moved casually to the side, to be cleaned up later by the locals. Most of the time, the family members of the deceased did it.
I was still several years away from eligibility for conscription and they were already asking for identity cards. I already had mine out when the Government Records official approached me with his escort. The official was a short, portly man in his early 50’s at least. His one man escort was a grizzled veteran of roughly the same age. It was kind of hard to tell and I had obviously more important things on my mind.
I gave him my card and waited nervously as he scanned it into his portable database. The device gave a small beep and he returned my card. He moved on, and I relaxed a bit. That is, until I noticed his escort hadn’t moved with him. He noticed that too and walked back. Noticeably more tense than before.
“What’s up Frank?” He asked with a slightly concerned look on his face,
“Are we sure that this one checks out as underage?” The grizzled soldier replied, with a slight tightening on his weapon.
“Yeah, He checked out. Come on. They start to get antsy when we stop like this.”
“Bullshit. I remember this one. He’s been holding onto this same card for at least two years.”
My heart stopped. My card had been renewed every year.
“Geez, alright frank, I’ll run it again.”
I handed him the card I’d never had the chance to put away.
He put my card through the scanner again. After what seemed like an eternity, A soft beep emanated from the scanner.
“See? All good. Your just parano-“
A second beep came from the scanner.
The Official stepped back and drew his side arm
“He’s got flags. Grab him.”
I gathered myself and pushed off the wall and dove into the official, knocked him down, picked myself up, and ran. Some of the other guards grabbed their rifles and I expected the feel my flesh tearing as their rounds tore into my body at any moment. But they never came. I ran towards an unguarded door with their eyes watching me. Still no rifle fire. I had opened the door and gone halfway through the opening, when a rifle butt came out of the darkness and impacted into my face.
As I lay on the ground, Consciousness fading, I heard two soldiers step out of the doorway towards me.
“Jesus, they just keep getting younger and younger.” Said one.
“Why do they always run? It’s not like they have anywhere to go.” Said another.
“I dunno, Animal instinct? Fuck it, Throw him on the truck and let’s get out of here.
I was born in 2123. I never knew my parents. No one ever did. I was raised by the government Child Care system until I was six. Indoctrinated into the “loving” the government that provided everything for me. Then, I was moved to a Thermal housing unit. Living in a thermal unit was not easy; there were times without food, although water was plentiful, pure water was rare, almost non-existent. Clothing was also hard to come by. You made due or you didn’t make it at all. I got out decent enough. I had an arrangement with the janitor. Once in a while, the administrators had to inspect the janitorial staff for contraband. The Janitors would give it to me, I’d hide it in one of my many hiding spots, and they’d drop me an extra ration once in a while. But most didn’t make out nearly that well. Once a month, They’d find a body in the pipes and they’d have to stop production. We’d get a rest from shoveling the coal into the furnaces, But we’d lose a worker. We would also have the down time for whatever damage to the filters was caused.
Everything had been breaking down since the 2129 riots. I was too young for most of it, But I remember the food shortages, the violence in the streets, the pervading fear; I remember it all. The prices rose to impossible heights and jobs became useless. Everything grinded to a halt over a period of three or four chaotic months. Tram services shut down, supermarkets were emptied, and atrocities were committed.
It was hell. But I lived. I was welcomed into a small community of people working together for a common cause. The Pursuit of enough. Enough to eat, enough to live.
Points:
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Canary word: Present
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,861 Reviews
Yay! I guess this is what happens when I start writing a book in the middle of the night. :/ Thanks for the review! I'll go through and edit this as soon as I get the time! I don't know if you know this yet, but I've posted another chapter as well. And as far as the grit goes, I don't think yours is lacking. At all.
#FF0000 ">IS it sad that the beginning kinda tripped me up a little and made me think I was actually reading something about a real person? Hahaha! Of course not! That’s a really great way to introduce a novel, very gripping.
)
) that?" "dunno.#FF0000 ">(<and here) But I would really give a thought to shutting the fuck up. There used to be three more of us. I think they- "(you’ll want to write this differently, you never want to cram dialogue into one paragraph without much indication on who’s speaking. It’s confusing to read) (paragraph break) Just then someone I hadn't noticed stood up and whistled. He then proceeded to bark order's in such a fashion that I assumed he must be a instructor#FF0000 ">(another break) "Alright, AS soon as the gate drops, you WILL form ranks six deep! Any and ALL non-compliance WILL be dealt with!"(break off here into a new paragraph, it’s too confusing) I noticed then that the dark foreboding structure I had seen earlier was now directly ahead and becoming much bigger at each passing second. 
) you As we ran, I ended up with the recruit I had talked to on the transport,#FF0000 ">(<period “.”) (He)he Remembered me#FF0000 ">(comma) and, as we ran, we talked to each other.#FF0000 ">(He) he told me that his name was Jonathan White, and that before this he hadn't seen a roof over his head for 5 months. As we reached the 28 mile #FF0000 ">(<there’s some rule about the use of actual numbers in writing, I’m not entirely sure but I think maybe you’re supposed to have that written in letters like “twenty-eight”) marker#FF0000 ">(comma) a transport truck drove in front of our column and deposited arms, ammunition, and one instructor.#FF0000 ">(break the paragraph here and start a new one with the following sentence) I #FF0000 ">(was) issued a rifle, along with a pistol and some ammo. The rifle was marked "M-37 Armor Piercing, Anti-Material,."(<take out the comma and the period and place a comma on the other side of the quotations) by a small paper card just below the rifle. Then, Just as I picked the Rifle up, the instructor waved us in and said "Alright, Listen up! There is food and rest waiting for you inside the house ahead. Only problem, some non-combatant militia members took it over. Take'em out. #FF0000 "> (<you have no quotations here, so it sorta leaves the dialogue hanging in the balance)
Below I’ve made a lot of corrections on your piece, as well as a few suggestions of my own. I’ll be back to say more at the very bottom of the page. Okay so here we go:
*The following is the unabridged Journal of Jeremy Edwards. a#FF0000 ">(A) soldier of the "North Westeren #FF0000 ">(Western) Confederation 768th Infantry Corps" during the 2604 - 3150 period of civil, environmental, and military strife. Presented to you in its entirety, unabridged From the Stockholm archives. ( Hash Code # 23-423-8642-9)
* This is a self written#FF0000 ">(self-written) record of the authors life. starting#FF0000 ">(Starting)with his Conscription in 2599, the first few chapters chronicles the recruitment, training, and the first few years of the authors service to the NWC. *
This is not a happy book. This was not a happy period or a bright spot of humanity. This Will never be anyone's "Golden Age". This was merely the survival of the human race while under great oppression of soul, mind, and body. people struggled, starved, killed, and died under brutal regimes that Were the same no matter how many times they were overthrown. Millions died And for what reason? So the Inadept#FF0000 "> (according to my MS Word, inadept isn’t a word…) leaders of an enslaved people could continue in thier (their)lavish life styles, insulating themselves against the stark reality they had created for their people. No, subjects, Not(not) people. they didn't think of us like that. We were scum. fodder for their wars and slaves to their whims. Not that we knew it at the time. We believed we were fighting for a cause, "For the Younger Generation." So That our children may have a life free from what we had experienced. By defending our borders from the loose elements of our society, people portrayed as anarchists and cannibals. When really, They had been enlightened. They were the first ones. The ones who learned the truth, Who were already fighting for our people. I am Jeremy Edwards. This is the story of my peoples reclamation(reclamation) of their former glory.
The greatest slave is the one Who believes he is freely fighting for a cause.
- A Patriot
#FF0000 "> (^ SO SO SO COOL^
In the year 2599 I was conscripted by the "North Westeren#FF0000 ">(Western) Confederation 768th Infantry Corps " with much pride and relief, little knowing the experiences and trials I would soon encounter. As I left my home in the city and moved to Fort 425 Or, Firebase Red Cloud, for the start of my training it never really occurred to me that in the short strech #FF0000 ">(stretch) of time that had encompassed my entire life until that point#FF0000 ">(comma) I had resided in a 20 mile area caught in the icy grip of the semi-arctic wasteland.
As I was taken to the recruiting Facility(Recruiting Facility) in my 16th year of life for my 10 years of mandatory military service, I never once wanted to stop again In the ironically termed "Peace Zone" which was, in all reality far from peaceful. Although the written statistics said that crime had been falling every year for the past eight years, since the 2591 riots, in all reality it wasn't. In fact it seemd (seemed) like it was steadily climbing. It was either one of three things,#FF0000 ">(<:) Either the Crime Reduction Squads had begun profiting from the criminal activies(activities) they were sworn to stop and so#FF0000 ">(comma) letting #FF0000 ">(let) them go unreported, or they were being blackmailed and couldn't, for fear of their lives report anything, or finally, They#FF0000 ">(they) had pulled the CRS's out of the area and there weren't any left to report the crimes. Any of the three are valid arguments. All three are based in fact.
(I’m loving the sort of post-apocalyptic setting. It reminds me almost of a Fallout type thing. I’m a huge fan of Post Apocalypse and that game so this is really super cool)
I never killed anyone or stole without need. But living in a SHD*(Solar Heated Dwelling)#FF0000 ">(I think you shut cut the acronyms and just say what these things are just because it doesn’t look right with the parentheses) was not easy,#FF0000 ">(semicolon;) there were times without food, although water was plentiful, pure water was rare, almost non-existent. Clothing was also hard to come by. arms were by far the hardest to find. Ammo thrice so. No brass, steel, or iron of any kind was allowed through the scanners. It was plastic or flesh. The reasoning being, if you had metal #FF0000 ">(comma)you had ammo, if you had ammo, you had a gun. As a result, the polymer weapons(Polymer Weapons) black market flourished. After a child reached the age of 12#FF0000 ">(comma) the North Westeren #FF0000 ">(Western) Confederation cut off it's(its) support, #FF0000 ">(what little it had been giving) and expected the child to survive to adulthood without any further care. The packets of food, clothing, and water stopped cold. They were expected to earn a living as well as they could by getting a job through the employment agencies which would cheat the inexperienced children out of most of their "money" which could only pay for rent and the barest of necessities. I think the going rate is about $12 a(an) hour. Even when I was younger, the prices were still obscene, $2000 for a half gallon(half-gallon) container of water. That was up from $200 when I was younger. #FF0000 ">(THAT IS OUTRAGEOUS!!!)
And if you were deformed in any way, through accident or sickness you were banished to the wastelands to starve or be eaten. That was if it didn't manifest itself until after you were born. If someone was born disfigured(comma) they were killed outright. After all, children didn't feel pain until they were a year old. #FF0000 ">(Hmmm…Spartan-like. SWEEEEET!!)
All in all, it was a hell hole.#FF0000 ">(hell-hole) Plain and simple. So when I finally came of age to be conscripted#FF0000 ">(comma) I left with relief tempered with apprehension and#FF0000 ">(as I was) was herded aboard the transport vehicle next to the other new conscripts who would become my family, my friends, and my brothers. The ride was quick, And we soon left the residential areas and moved into the military section of the city. As I rode through the Firebase's Industrial Sector, closer to my destination, I beheld a massive fortess(fortress) with forboding(foreboding) walls and many, many, automated spotlights and particle accelerater#FF0000 ">(accelerator) turrets, which could make the man next to you into a puddle before you had time to react, So I had been told. I nudged the person next to me as we drew closer, he started and whispered "what'du#FF0000 ">(capitalize “What”) want? " "whats(#FF0000 ">repeat the previous step here
As soon as we entered the gates I noticed Several Issueing(several issuing) stations one for paperwork, one for clothing, etc.#FF0000 ">(don’t use etc. I learned the hard way that that’s never acceptable in a narrative. Instead, say exactly what you mean or just say “one for paper work and one for clothing) At that point#FF0000 ">(comma) the gate of our vehicle dropped with a loud bang. We all jumped out of the transport while the instructor bellowed and pushed us, And#FF0000 ">(and) formed what we considered two deep ranks(above the instructor said he wanted six deep ranks, but here they’re forming two deep. ,#FF0000 ">(period) a#FF0000 ">(An) Instructor noticed a conscript that was slightly out of line with the others and advanced on the unlucky boy, pulling out a short thick baton which, as the instructor lifted it, suddenly became a light blue shaft of glowing energy, (period)the instructor brought the baton down on the new recruit and the courtyard of the Fortress suddenly became filled with the screaming of the boy struck with the baton, the boy collapsed and the instructor put the baton away and began kicking the consript#FF0000 ">(conscript) yelling "form into your rank soldier!" The consript#FF0000 ">(conscript) slowly forced himself upright and into his rank as other instructors circled like vultures around the rest of us. Nobody else fell out of rank.
After we had stood at attention for what seemed like hours, a instructor wearing a camoflaged (camouflaged) combat suit walked out of the fortress that was to become our home and came to stand in front of us,#FF0000 ">(<break the paragraph here) "I am Lt. Colonel Rocha." as he spoke he inspected us, walking around us and through our ranks, "you have embarked on this endeavor as boy's, you shall return as men. Many hard days and nights await you, some of you will fall, that is a fact. But those that do not will be made strong by your sacrifice. From now on You will Address your instructors as "sir". You will not speak to your instructors unless spoken to. Any non-compliance will be dealt with as you have already witnessed. Report at each station in turn, then fall out to the barracks, further instruction will be given there." At this point he uttered only one more word, "DISMISSED!" and then returned into the fortress.
After the Lt. Colonel had returned inside, We were herded toward each station, asked our information, and then herded#FF0000 ">(find a different word for herded) toward the barracks and told to stay at attention until told otherwise. Four hours later the command was given to form into 4 teams of 40 men each. We were then ordered to march 30 miles in 7 hours or we wouldn't be fed that night. After about 5 miles I noticed that the houses were thinning and that the instructor's gave no visble#FF0000 ">(visible) intention of slowing down. We were going into the wastelands.
The rough traveling claimed some of the recruits, I'll never forget the look of one who had broken his ankle. As the instructor's told his fellows to keep going while yelling back "if#FF0000 ">(If) you can#FF0000 ">(can’t?) survive long enough to get back to base, your rations are revoked!".#FF0000 ">(break into a new paragraph here. Also, this sentence is strange to me: “As the instructor's told his fellows to keep going while yelling back "if you can survive long enough to get back to base, your rations are revoked!"” read it over a few more times
The Sun was Shining as we walked towards the house. We were hoping that they had already left. That #FF0000 ">(do you mean then?) we'd come upon a#FF0000 ">(an) empty house. That image quickly dissolved as the man right next to me hit the ground without his head. As his blood poured onto the ground(comma) two more men were felled in#FF0000 "> (a) similar manner before we realized what was happening. As we scrambled to get SOMETHING#FF0000 ">(go ahead and lowercase “something and put it into italics)[/b] between us and the house, we started hearing the heavy thumping of a heavy machine gun. I heard one of the men Yell, "Non-coms my ass!" just before a rifle fired grenade struck him in the chest and dissolved him, and the two men next to him in a fiery explosion leaving behind only small scraps of what, moments before, had been three men. At that point I looked around the snow drift I had hidden behind and looked down the scope of my weapon, I was no stranger to firearms after living as long as I had on the streets, but with a weapon of this precision, the blur of icons, numbers, and the sounds of combat and death around me started to overwhelm#FF0000 ">(overwhelm) me, As I looked through the scope, I saw a man peeking out of a second story window#FF0000 ">(<This is another really long sentence, you might want to divide it, just to make it more readable). As I laid the reticule above his head he started firing torwrad#FF0000 ">(toward) some of my fellow trainees. I fired. And#FF0000 ">(Scratch “And” and capitalize “The”) the man felled#FF0000 ">(fell) out of sight with the upper right portion of his head missing. I felt several rounds go past my head in retaliation and crawled back out of sight, Hoping#FF0000 ">(hoping) that another rifle grenade wasn't heading toward me.
But soon the bullets stopped and the others in my group began assaulting the house, which by now had been riddled with holes, both big and small. I caught up with Jonathan just as his team (The third one in.)#FF0000 ">(take out the parentheses and just use commas ) was about to enter and sweep the rooms with the other teams. The man who had taken charge told us to check the ground floor rooms #FF0000 ">( I think maybe you should find a different word for room/rooms.) . #FF0000 ">(space)So Me, Jonathan, and two other men #FF0000 ">(You don’t have to but I would suggest rewriting this part and say “So two other men, Jonathan, and I searched…” to me it just sounds a little neater)searched each room while shots rang out above us. After the house had been secured, we were all about to bed down at once,#FF0000 ">(Why would they be bedding down now when there are still shots being fired?) but we realized that the militants might've been just a scout group For(for) a larger force. #FF0000 ">(So)so we organized about a third of us to post guards, which after a minute or two of argument from the ones on watch first, we did. No one slept that night.
The next morning I was told to take my turn on watch. As I climbed through the levels of the house, I glanced into the room where we had moved the bodies Of the "Non-combatants" #FF0000 ">(period?) I noticed after a while that they were all of conscription age, and that they had all been using weapons similar to our own. At that point#FF0000 ">(comma) I became extremely nervous and backed out of the room and took my place at my appointed place#FF0000 ">(I think maybe you should use a different word for “place”, just because you use it twice in the same sentence. In this case “post” or something along those lines would sound nice) (a south window on the top floor, staying about 4 feet back from the window to avoid being sillouted #FF0000 ">(do you mean silhouetted?) by anyone outside.) #FF0000 ">(<I don’t think the parentheses are needed, you can just use a couple of commas) . A couple hours later a shout went up from the west window as everyone raced to the positions that had been outlined when we had talked about guard duty the night before, I was one of the "lucky" ones i#FF0000 ">(I) saw the group of armored vehicles stop in front of our house, when they did, Lt. Colonel Rocha jumped out of the lead vehicle and walked closer to the house, "All right boys, Pack(pack) it up, time to come home." he then walked back to his vehicle and closed the hatch behind him. #FF0000 ">(<this sentence is extremely long, divide it into two sorter sentences??) Everyone was loaded into the vehicles and as we were returning Colonel Rocha's voice came through speakers into our ears, "You've done well, for a bunch 'a FNG's(*), through eliminating training group A, you've solidified your place here to continue your training." I had always heard rumors of the unconventional training techniques used in training new conscripts, but had always confided in the hope that they were just that. Rumors. In fact, Not#FF0000 ">(not) even widely believed rumors. You'd have maybe one or two per settlement who would think of them as plausible, they were usually the ones without any fresh water. It's the thought that counts I Guess.#FF0000 "> (guess)
As we were riding back to the imposing bulk of Fort 425, I was Glad That I Had Survived (glad I had survived) my first days of training. Although Still(still) jittery because of the adrenaline from seeing the convoy approach the house earlier. And the fact that our Battalion#FF0040 ">(battalion) C.O. was one mean, sneaky, S.O.B. Didn't Help#FF0000 ">(didn’t help) either. Didn't Trust him then, Don't (don’t)trust him now. Like I said. One Mean, Sneaky, Son of a bitch.#FF0000 ">(one mean, sneaky, son of a…)
#FF0000 ">Okay so, first off I noticed a few spelling mistakes (no biggie) You also tend to capitalize things that don’t need to be capitalized while things like words beginning a sentence or a bit of dialogue remain in lowercase.
You don’t transition into a new paragraph often, which sometimes is okay, but in this case, it was confusing and made the piece look cluttered, especially when it came to dialogue, which is always best to separate from the main narrative.
So other than that and a few minor punctuation errors, I don’t see much wrong with this. I really, really like it; in fact, I wish I had the skill to write a good war novel. (I kind of am, but it’s lacking this kind of grit)
I like the Spartan mentality of these people. Do or Die, go big or go home. Very, very great. I’ll be reading this, from now on, so keep me posted with new entries
Happy writing!
belle
Thank you so much!
Yeah, I've had issues with formatting in the past. But I think I got sorted out now. Let me know what you think.
I love the concept here and the idea behind it. You've done a great job of introducing the story and it's managed to hook me on that front, so well done. You have a good style of writing in which there are very few grammer or spelling errors and you have easily pulled the reader in after the first few sentences. Having said that, some of your paragraphs are a little lengthy. That's fine normally, but it can seem a bit of a daunting piece to read, espeacially online. Perhaps alter your paragraph separation, on this site if not in your word document, and watch the reviews roll in!
Keep typing, you've got talent!
There's About 4 1/2 chapters all told. And I figure I'm about 1/4 of the way through the book.
Re-working everything. There's been a bunch that I haven't posted on the site yet but that should give a taste of the new material until I can get the rest up.