The stars are beaming down on my face. Lying on the soft sweet grass, I’m remembering, remembering to forget. I have done my time, and now I am free. Jail is horrible and it will always be. I get up and stretch my legs; I know people have suffered, but not me.
I run back to my seaside cottage as fast as I can. I can see it on a lush hill. Suddenly a light flickers. I look at my old house, puzzled.
I see a faint shadow in the house; the chimney is bellowing smoke. I stop running. The thought of being homeless haunts me. I fall to my knees and close my eyes, whimpering.
I wake up with tears streaming down my face. The night was cold. This is even worse than prison, I thought to myself. I looked around, starving. Food is scarce this time of year. Almost all animals are hibernating and crops have frozen solid. I have nothing to keep me warm but the cloud covered sun. I hear a drip drop, It begins to rain.
I have no friends or family: they all died in the war. I’m the last one left. I’m the heir to the throne.