“How does one view the beginning?

Is it the start of a new life?

The light of the sun on a fresh day?

Or is the beginning simply a means to an end?”

--Matilda LaPierre, Poetic Interpretation of War

7:30 AM, and the alarm is going off just as it does every other morning. Sighing, her hands fumbling with the alarm clock, the buzzing eventually stopped. She groaned, and threw herself back on the bed, one arm over her eyes, trying to fall back into the happy recesses of sleep the clock so rudely jolted her from.

Isn’t it strange how quickly dreams can be forgotten? Just a second ago, she was running over bright green grass, her brown hair flowing out behind her, her glasses tossed aside (in dreams, glasses are unnecessary). She could smell the flowers as she hurried through them, the sun was bright but not blinding, and…something was happening….

Sighing, she sat up. There goes another happy dream, another potential poem lost to the recesses of her mind where dreams hid themselves during the day.

The buzzing went off a second time, but this time she hit the off button rather than snooze. She stood up quickly, greeted with a quick bout of dizziness, as she was every morning. She took a second to steady herself, and then moved towards the door.

She tripped, landing flat on her face.

“Ugh….” Peeling herself off the floor, she crawled to the door, before walking out of it. One day, she’ll clean up the mess of stuffed animals, books, pens, pencils, paper, and assorted other objects that were useless at the moment but needed to be held onto, but not today.

From her door, she walked down the white hallway to her sister’s door. “Milly! Come on, time to get up!” She said, pounding her fist on the door. Then, she opened it, walking inside. Grasping the bed sheets, she reveals the form of her sister, curled up against a pink teddy-bear. Her brown hair was a mess, and there was white bits of…paper? Yes, paper, in her sister’s hair.

“Matty….why get up?” Milly asked her sister in a sleepy tone.

Matilda, or in this case, “Matty” looked down at her sister’s mess of torn up paper on the bed next to her. “Because it’s time to get ready for lessons with Mrs. Porter,” She said, scooping up the pieces of paper into her hand, and tossing them into the trash. “Don’t you dare fall back asleep again….” Matilda threatened half heartedly.

“Lessons….” Milly rolled over, and tugged at her PJ’s as Matilda left the room.

In the bathroom, Matilda began her morning ritual of showering, and brushing her teeth. As she took off her robe, she was careful to remove the pocket notebook she kept in a side pocket, should the sudden thought burst into her head, and she needed to write it down. She hadn’t written anything in it in a while, but even still, she kept it close.

As she let the warm water flow over her body, she could hear some thuds as she sister attempted to get ready. Milly wasn’t really mentally challenged, as the doctors could never identify her case. Her speech never progressed, but she was quite smart in most everything she ever tried. But, she did things in a very unique way, oftentimes in a destructive manner. In some ways, she much like a child. In others, she was a genius. And Matilda was her closest friend.

After showering and dressing, Matilda hurried downstairs to begin the process of serving breakfast. Unfortunately, groceries haven’t been collected yet, so all they had was half a box of cold cereal. Oh well, she poured two bowls, setting the table, and then hurried upstairs to see her sister’s progress.

Opening the door, she found her sister slumped against the wall, with two different colored socks on her hands, and both her legs through one pant leg. “They don’t fit!” She exclaimed, before falling onto her side, panting heavily. That explained the thudding from before, her sister was bouncing up and down to get in the pants.

“Milly…you know how to put on pants….” Matilda sighed, and proceeded to help her younger sister with the dressing. They walked downstairs together to eat breakfast. Milly needed Matilda to show her once again how to use a spoon. Thankfully, she wasn’t flinging the cereal around the kitchen today.

At precisely 8:00, the mail was shoved through the slot of the LaPierre household. Matilda took it, glancing through the letters and taking any addressed to her. Afterwards, she sorted the mail, and tossed it on the counter. Milly had dropped her spoon, and was banging on the table.

“Shhh, shhh, I got it,” Matilda replied, handing the spoon back.

Ever since Matilda’s mother died, their father had to work two jobs to support his two daughters. He never had a day off, and many days he was gone early in the morning and didn’t get back until after dinner. Matilda had since taken on both the sister and mother role for Milly, and her only breaks were when Mrs. Porter came to tutor Milly while Matilda went to school.

She never complained though. Matilda enjoyed this existence. It kept her happy, and out of trouble, and Milly was well-behaved for the most part. She missed her mother, and she at times hated her father for this, but she understood his reasoning, and did her best to make the most of it.

About fifteen minutes later, the doorbell rang. Matilda answered the door. “Morning Mrs. Porter!”

The middle-aged woman had a kind strictness to her, and carried herself much like a school teacher. She carried a briefcase, and wore a kind smile. “Morning Matty, everything going well I hope?”

Matilda nodded, as she heard the clank of a spoon. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.” She turned and hurried back while Mrs. Porter walked inside the modest house. Handing the spoon back to her sister, she turned the ground over to the tutor/babysitter.

She kissed her sister on the cheek, grabbed the mail addressed to her, and hurried out the door. School wasn’t a far walk, and she headed there, feeling the tinge of the winter cold still in the air. Thankfully, spring was on its way, and the cold wasn’t unbearable.

The familiar walls of the Appelite School greeted her. White, modern, and not too old, the school was the perfect representation of everything the nation of Tallita stood for. Modern, clean, beautiful in the way only perfection could be. Tallita was a wealthy nation, and they took great care in insuring that every aspect of the country knew that.

“Matty! Hey!” called the familiar voice of a classmate, one of Matilda’s close friends Jen. Jen hurried behind Matilda, both wearing the same matching school uniforms, but Jen’s cropped blonde hair was a stark contrast to Matilda’s long brown.

“Hello Jen,” Matilda said, nodding, “how was your yesterday?”

Jen giggled a little at Matilda’s unique way of phrasing questions. “It was good! I went home, did nothing, and then slept.” She grinned goofily. “How about you?”

Matilda grinned. “Milly had some trouble making paper airplanes. She kept trying to cut the paper instead of fold it.” That explained the paper in her sister’s hair. She must’ve been up late trying to get it right.

Jen chuckled. “Your sister is so sweet though, in her own way.” She said. “When I met her, she was wicked nice, just different.”

“Yeah, thank you. I do my best to keep her in line, she’s a handful though.”

“I don’t know how you do it Matty.” The bell for class rang, and Matilda hurried to her most hated subject, science.

Science just didn’t interest Matilda. Nature was something to enjoy, not study. It was beautiful, and it didn’t matter how it worked, or how little cells worked together. It was more than that, and science seemed to always remove that element of mystery, or surprise. In that class, nature wasn’t something pretty to look it, it was something to rip apart to figure out how it worked. And that, drove Matilda insane.

So, while the teacher droned on and on about some sort of nucleus, Matilda glanced around the room, writing down what she saw in the margins of her notebook. Her pencil moved furiously over the page, she had just thought of something. “Snow does not kill the leaves/ merely brings new life/so that we can enjoy/all nature has to-“

“Miss LaPierre?” The teacher called on her.

Matilda snapped her head up. “Yes, professor?” She asked, her poetic lines lost now.

“Do you know the purpose of this section of the mitochondria?”

Matilda glanced at the board. “Not at all…”

The professor wore a happy grin. “It’s in your notebook, don’t you take notes?”

“Of course.”

“Can I see it?”

Matilda froze, but reluctantly nodded and walked slowly to the front of the classroom, where the professor opened her book and looked at it. “Two pages?”

Matilda nodded nervously. “I didn’t want to waste paper.” On such a horrible subject.

The professor looked over the notes, seeing the tiny scrawl with such precision and grace and they seemed to be rather complete, if very hard to read.

“Can I have my notebook back now?” She asked slowly, wishing to sit back down, now embarrassed.

Class then proceeded much like normal, and then lunchtime arrived. Matilda had to pack a lunch every night before school, and she tended to sit with a small group of girls, though she was often rather quiet, choosing to write down in her poetry notebook little phrases that may sometime form a poem.

“Hey, did you get one in the mail too?” A male voice asked from the next table.

“Yeah, I did. It’s not really surprising, Tallita has always been on bad terms with Keria.”

“Still, I wonder what this means….being drafted for the army…”

Matilda perked up immediate, and spun around in her chair to face the boys. She recognized them immediately, Will and James, both were in her poetry class. Will could actually write some beautiful poetry, but James usually sat in the back looking bored. Rumor was, his girlfriend wanted James to sign up for the class, but then she broke up with him, and he was stuck.

“What are you talking about?” Matilda asked, getting their attention.

Will turned his somewhat dark haired, round face to her. James didn’t make the effort. “Did you get one of these in the mail this morning?” He asked, holding up an open envelope.

Matilda’s brow furrowed, and she remember she had the mail with her, in her binder. She pulled it out, and nodded as she had received the same letter. Her eyes widened a little when she took in the return address, stamp of the Queen of Tallita.

He nodded. “Yeah, you got one too.” He noticed it was closed. “It’s a draft. The army is calling in all able-bodied persons with birthdays in the first half of the year, between the ages of 17 and 40, to serve the army.”

Matilda found it hard to breath. A draft? An army? HER? “W-why?”

Will’s lips widened into a grin a little. “You don’t get out much, do you Matty?” He chuckled, and Matilda didn’t even register the use of her nickname. Just about everyone called her that, one of those named that stick.

“Well, you see,” he began, seeing Matilda’s incredulous expression, “Tallita and Keria have always been at each other’s throats, over the river that separates the two countries. Not only is the river a great source of energy for water wheels, there is a huge fish population, and it’s a great shipping route.”

Matilda rolled her eyes. Resident history buff giving a lecture. “I know all that, come on, tell me something new.” She shook her head.

He cracked a smile again. “Scientists from both Tallita and Keria have been working together for a while to research the river and search through the unique soil on the bottom of it. Turns out, just a few days ago, they found some stones that were exploding with energy!”

“How could a rock have energy?”

“They don’t know, no one does. The stones have been named Enerocks-crappy name, I know- and now the two sides are trying to figure out who can lay claim to these Enerocks. They were in a mutually owned river, so who gets them? Now sides are chasing after each, and the shaky trust is broken. Especially since two days ago, these Enerocks began popping up at Tallita’s capital building, deep in the mines.”

Matilda put the pieces together. “Keria thinks we lied, and are planning to invade.”

Will nodded. “Exactly. So, in the next week, we are all going to boot camp!” He seemed excited for it.

Matilda’s heart sank. She could barely stand gym class without tripping and falling on her face. Boot camp?

How could she have been so stupid? It didn’t take long for an answer to form in her head. She was often too busy reading poetry to pay attention to the more boring events of the news. Now, she regretted it.

She went through the rest of her day almost in a daze. War frightened her, yes this was true. Very true….But, she was helpless to stop the people in charge. They called the shots.

Government in Tallita was set up around a few basic freedoms, and these freedoms cannot be violated with the exception of war. A person can speak freely, live their life how they want, etc. But, during a way, a citizen was expected to put their life on hold and serve in the military. Many people found careers in the frightful experience, as the military also doubled as a police force.

Matilda had hoped to just avoid any wars, and get through life with a peaceful existence, writing books of poetry or full novels, but now, that all seemed turned upside. She cradled the letter in her hands during the classes, not opening it, as if doing so would make it suddenly more real.

And Milly? Her father? How would they function? Milly certainly couldn’t take care of herself, and her father was working two jobs as it was, could they afford a full-time babysitter? They would have to….

This was stupid! Wars just cause death and destruction and never solve anything! People should be able to just work out their differences! Talk it over! Surely there was a way to open these people’s eyes to that simple truth. But how….?

Matilda shook her head. No…There was no way that anyone could see this any different. Violence could fix problems. People always thought that, and for good reason. Watching televisions or action movies always showed that a punch could stop a madman. If only one could learn to appreciate something different…like poetry, showing life for how it was…

Her head snapped up as the professor and class gave her a look, but kept on talking.

She had it! Poetry! As a person, she couldn’t do anything. Nothing at all. She would just be tossed aside, forgotten.

But, think of all the poetry that fits into everyday life, that basically everyone knows by heart! As poetry, she might be able to make a difference!

The reality of that thought hit her. Publishing was hard, and everyone could put words together and call it poetry….This would be tough. Especially during the times of war…

Matilda gulped a little, as she stopped paying attention long ago. Still though, if she could write something really beautiful and meaningful, it would get out there. Somehow, she could do this! She could open everyone’s eyes to the horrors of war, and prevent one from breaking out!