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    The Great Divide: The Divide
    The Great Divide: The Divide
    The Great Divide: The Divide
    Ebook90 pages1 hour

    The Great Divide: The Divide

    By Lucky Hero

    ()

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    About this ebook

    A Great War will tear nations apart. Breaking our sacred code of protecting each other and our sovereign land. Told through the fractured life of a mysterious kid injured during the conflict. The reader is the author. And can choose how to see the story. My question for you is, can you tell fiction from reality?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherLuckyhz
    Release dateMar 27, 2022
    ISBN9798201239220
    The Great Divide: The Divide

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      Book preview

      The Great Divide - Lucky Hero

      The Great Divide

      All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address the publisher at: Jade28.db@gmail.com

      Disclaimer:

      This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

      © 2017 Lucky Zero

      Tribute

      Dear, Inner circle:

      This project couldn’t have happened without you guys. Team divide for your effortless work and assistance on this project. I look forward to future projects with you. Thanks, best friend’s you guys are family to me. Thanks for your faith and encouragement and as well as to Paul Smiths College for inspiring me. Finally, thank you my Flower. You’re the real beauty in my life and I love you. Love all you guys and a special kiss to my flower. You guys are my inner circle. Enjoy the read.

      Author:

      Lucky Zero

      Editors:

      Mr. Winter/Maggles

      Illustrators:

      Sleepy ash/Raven Coil 

      A close up of a flower Description generated with very high confidence

      Table of Contents

      Midnight Runner

      Halo Under

      Waves & Shores

      Cut Throat

      Cotton candy madness

      Ghostly Halls

      Tragic Flagmen

      Why Try

      Fever Dream

      A nightmare Wrapped in Gold

      One ring, No More

      Miracle Harbor

      This Eclipse

      Broken Paint

      Drug Induced

      Critical Thinking

      Guillotine

      Cross Road Dreamer

      Fearful Beds

      Ghost; Man

      Midnight Runner

      I’m close I feel it. Wait it’s over there, let me catch up as it chuckled.  Journal # 1 (Soul Drifter) pg.3

      As I watched the star’s blaze through the open sky, the warm blood trickles down my chin and drips onto the thin blanket of snow. I’m down on my knees and there is no hope of standing up again. We did it but was it so worth it? Was it all for a logical reason or for something much grander than this world could offer? As I watched all my friends hit their death beds before they had a chance to live, I recall what little memories we had shared; they deserved better. All those selfish rich bastards taking and never returning, creating a bill we could not afford to pay. As we beg, borrow and thieve for the need to move, but with little insight towards the greater conciseness of the world. I swore I’d tear the horizon to reach that goal and now with these bloody tears I shed on a dying world full of hate. These wounds I bare will fester and only breed contagion amongst the many. I wish we could go back to then, back to the day I felt the warm hands of mother on my face. Back to the days with my wife, where even is she?

      It was a crisp autumn, and the leaves fell like dreams that had once served a purpose. Now a barren naked tree stands before us, showing all of the elaborate schemes of the tricks, they had thought. Until the next season comes, everything is exposed and wide open, vulnerable to the elements unknown. This world held value at one point. When it stopped, it was so openly clear the air was covered in a toxic smog that burned the lungs and clogged our thinking. It all went so fast; I could not recall the day I was born or the time I had my first birthday, but I recall a little bit. Like when I was born, the room was so hollow and empty. Barren at first glance, but lanterns filled the room and mirrors were plastered in corners with sheets over them. Everything looked so clean, I doubt you could find a piece of dust around.

      "My Nurse is steadily checking up

      on me then I look outside, I see him." Journal #4 (Wanderer) Pg.2

      My parents told me when I was born, a shooting star passed overhead and then the sky cracked and roared thunder. When I was born, it was a time of high hopes still, an era of prosperity and technology was still advancing but every day the rate felt like it went faster and faster till a tear opened the skies and, we, the dominant species decided it was time to take full control. I remember those days because I saw my mother cry, she was strong and carried a heavy tongue and a heavier heart. She argued dad to a standstill, and dad was a seasoned marine, fought countless wars and still couldn’t argue with mom. 

      This era was going so well. I saw protesters on the news who argued the safety of the advancement of technology and how damaging it is to society. I recognized the leader of the protesters who was much like my father and was a sergeant once himself. Dad talked about him once. Sergeant Davis, why would you turn on your country and drag your brothers into it? A swarm of ex-marines and eco supporters pushed the nations boundaries, and eventually had a surprising number in power which eventually cracked the state in half. Imagine, a war of diplomacy as men wearing suits determined our future. As they argued and feud over the ideas of pushing technology any further. 

      Don’t feel like moving much, I feel really low and my mind won’t stop telling me to get up. I scream I can’t. And even louder it says, Try. Journal #13 (Fort Hope) Pg.1

      The poverty rate in most states was much higher than previous years at surprising numbers. Toxic smog filled the entire eastern coast from plants next to the ocean. At this point, acid rain was prevalent and we as a country were aware of polluting the ocean and harming the people in the area.

      Why didn’t we choose to react faster? As feuds grew higher, the more radical protesters grew from destroying roads and factories, to assassination attempts. Looking over everything again, I ask, Why did we not just kill them? We could have moved on. Then I remembered the ethics and the hectic government. Could nothing be fixed? This is not at all what anybody could have wanted or imagined for the time. As the pollution spread into the sea, it eventually got over to the other world. People from England first noticed when fatal acid rain poured down onto the country. Knowing for quite some time that the United States had been illegally pouring pollutants into the ocean, but nobody figured it would be this bad. This is when shit finally hit the fan and the bigger motions on the cycle of devastation started turning.  I was ten when it happened. I was in school then, and we all were startled from what felt like an earthquake and it went for hours. Screaming and crying could be heard from miles. When it finally stopped, people bolted to the nearest television, but the door went flying, pinning our teacher to the wall. Weird men wearing masks ran and knocked the kids out and placed them in rustic like bags. Every kid that tried to run away, were faced by these two bulky men. They had no problems putting a bullet between their eyes. They soon approached me and they pulled out a syringe from his back pocket. They snatched my arm as one held me still. They gave me a shot, then like with little effort my sleepy eyes closed as the room spun around me. 

      Today the doctors gave me a sleeping pill. The restless nights and the rustling of the leaves, they amaze me, as my vision grows hazy. Those leaves how free. Journal #2 (Sleeping Pill) Pg.1

      When I came to, I couldn’t see clearly that far into the dark, but overheard what sounded like gunfire and chuckling

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