A Commoner's Diary (3)

March 6th, 1982

Before I write anything, I'd like to apologize if I sound whiny, bitchy, or hipster-like in this diary. It's the only place where I can express my feelings without being labeled a drama queen.

My name's Ellen, a random high school girl nobody likes. I'm 18 years old and I live in a terrible place that was once the best city in America.

New York City.

I live in a small dingy apartment with my Grandpa and my little brother Danny. My parents abandoned us at Grandpa's doorsteps years ago, unable to feed us, let alone themselves.

Grandpa's Daemon is a colorful macaw, while Danny's Daemon, Anadione, has yet to settle.

This crappy nation I live in is known as the United States of America. Back then, there were many federal states in this godforsaken country helping each other to create the greatest nation in the world… Until Texas won its independence and became the Republic of Texas, followed by Los Angeles choosing to band together with California and Nevada to establish New California with Hollywood as its capital. A great country now split into three.

Until this very day, all three nations are at each other's throat, believing their respective country to be better than the others. Too much fighting among the three and too little prosperity for their populace.

Why can't I be a Canadian instead?! Or, hell, a Mexican even if said country is worse than America?

As a child, I used to imagine myself living an awesome life in a big city like New York. Y'know, being able to enjoy stuff like living in a cool house, going to school with my best buddies, having fun in shopping malls or bars... All the fun things that modern Americans can get at a price.

Fast forward eight years later, I find myself and whatever left of my family living so damnably close to poverty. Add discrimination and an urban hellhole into the mix, and you'll get the idea.

Yes, you heard me right. New York has transformed into a hellhole, unlike the flourishing images it once sold to the masses ten years ago, with sky-high poverty and crime rate. My family is simply one of many poor people desperate to make a fortune here, and there are tens of thousands of poor people in this city; some have resorted to theft and robbery out of anger or envy.

April 20th, 1982

I haven't talked much about my Daemon, yeah? Well, Gary, or Garriedyme as my Mom named him, settled as a red fox when I was only twelve years old. Considering that poor folks like me are always ostracized by the rest of our capitalistic society, I am regarded as a freaking weirdo just because my Daemon settled when I was fairly young, even by my friends.

That, and a stupid, meaningless name that Mommy's Daemon bestowed upon him. It's a miracle I can still refer to him by Gary!

He understands how many hardships that Grandpa, me, and little Danny have to endure for years. Lack of proper healthcare and schooling, scavenging and pawning items to whoever wants to buy from us, not to mention starving during certain nights where we failed to secure enough money. Gary oftentimes assumes the appearance of small scavenging animals to help me find whatever things I need to bring home to Grandpa so he can fix and sell them, be they abandoned but repairable TV sets or spare parts from an old muscle car.

I'd appreciate it if my Daemon chose a wolf or a lynx as his permanent form, but a red fox works just fine.

After all, if the fairytale books that I once read were correct, foxes are closely associated with thieves and scroungers, unsavory but know exactly when and where to look for precious things. I think Gary operates based on that assumption, even if his intentions are beneficial… for us, at least.

Thankfully, we have no desire to jump into the criminal world. We'll never survive long in that kind of environment.

May 23rd, 1982

Today is graduation day.

All of my classmates are very eager to finally be free from their burdens as high school students, no more homework, and no more exams. But I don't share the same enthusiasm and festivity as they do.

Those kids are financially secure. They can easily enroll in any university they want or apply for a high-standing job with ease. I, on the other hand, am still struggling to help Grandpa feed our family. I have no luxury when it comes to future life choices.

The other students spend lots of money to decorate their Daemons with accessories during graduation day. What for? Are they hungry for recognition from their friends and families or is it some kind of yearly school tradition? Gary feels fine with having simple accessories on his head and has his fur brushed and cleaned. Yeah, screw it. If I have to stay as the poor girl nobody likes for the rest of my life, then there's no use trying to fit in the crowd.

One photo to commemorate my graduation is fine as it is.

The photo has me and Gary standing at the center, with Grandpa and his macaw Daemon on my left and Danny with his Daemon, taking a weasel's form, on my right.

August 10th, 1982

Today, Danny's Daemon settles in the form of a mini kangaroo!

Grandpa and his Daemon nod in acceptance at the sight of the jumpy creature. They are aware that little Danny is approaching his fourteenth birthday. But as his Daemon points out, Anadione's form isn't a mere kangaroo; it's a wallaby, a type of small kangaroo from Australia's vast plains and is allegedly an endangered species.

My little brother is torn between excitement at the sight of a jumpy and cuddly Daemon which he can hug while sleeping, and worry at the thought of possible bullying due to his Daemon's less-than-cool appearance. You know how kids are these days; apparently, what passes for cool in their minds is if you dress up like celebrities on TV, with leather jackets and colorful athletic shoes, and have your Daemon takes the shape of some exotic creature like a lion or a hawk.

I ask Grandpa to assure him that everything will be fine. No one's going to abuse him, no one's going to make fun of Anadione's form, and if someone does, we will have his back so Danny won't feel neglected. My little brother nods in agreement with grandpa's encouragement, which makes me glad that he's braver and more resistant to bullying than I am.

Good thing too, as Gary's fox form is built for stealth and craftiness, not for fighting.

We can only do so much to defend ourselves, let alone stop a brawl.

November 1st, 1982

Bad things are coming.

In the last three days, there was news about our government planning to draft two thousand male teenagers between 17 to 21 years of age from New York and its surrounding areas into military service. In case you haven't heard it yet, the US government is waging war in Vietnam, and they want to recruit as many boys as they could to serve as expendable soldiers. According to gossips on the streets, women are fair targets too, if only to serve as nurses or clerks, especially young female teens like me.

I already knew of the war stories as they did. What I fear the most is that, if the gossips are true, only three out of twenty youngsters drafted for the war ever come home alive. The rest are killed in the war or… went missing.

Danny is only fourteen, but the war is still ongoing; it's only a matter of time before the military comes knocking on our door and takes Danny away.

Grandpa voices his rejection to let Danny go.

He's right, my Daemon tells me. My little brother is brave, yes, but also too kindhearted to be a soldier, and his wallaby Daemon is best suited for menial work unrelated to warfare. My Grandpa insists that we find a way out of the city before Danny's seventeenth birthday… before the government and their agents find us. If they do, they'll surely take Danny to the 'Nam. He'll never come back.

Apparently, Grandpa's friend has a house in a farming community that we can purchase, but to do so, we have to sell this ugly house and many of our belongings just to keep us from drowning in debt after we buy the farming house.

The house lies outside of New York City and is largely safe from crime, which is a bonus for us.

Grandpa says yes, Danny says yes, and I think I'll go along with them. There's no future for me in this hellhole city, so why bother staying around? I certainly need a fresh start.

Oh wait, I gotta burn this diary first. Can't let my enemies and the military know where we're heading, right?