Author's note: Hello! This is my first story on Fiction Press, so please review!

I wrote this awhile ago for my history class, and I figured it might make a good story on this website. It's kind of short, but I really hope that you enjoy it!


My name is Aria Andrews and I am a student at Kent State University. I'm here to study writing and gather life experiences for such a career. I've always been opposed to the idea of war. Conflicts solved through the bloodshed of the innocent make no sense to me. I know that problems are solved through action, which is why I often participate in protests.

Friday, May 1, 1970 I was sitting in my dorm room tonight when I heard the screaming and cheering outside. I thought that a rally might have started, so I ran out to see what was happening. Fires had been started and the smell of smoke hung in the air. In some spots, glass was in pieces on the ground. The chaos overwhelmed me and I ran back inside.

Saturday, May 2, 1970 The ROTC building has been burnt to the ground. Tonight, the girls from across the hall, Anne Roberts and May Amber, knocked on my door and told me that something was happening and that I should be down there at that instant. Together we ran down and we soon faced a large, cheering crowd.

I shouted with them with determination and fire in my voice like the rest of them. Ahead of me I saw the ROTC building engulfed in flames, and though my heart was hit with shock and fear, I knew that it was all for the best. We watched the building burn and then my friends and I went back to our rooms.

Sunday, May 3, 1970 Things appeared to be back to normal today, but that was merely the calm before the storm. The National Guard arrived a few hours ago and they have posts around campus. Students are outraged and are trying to have the 1:00 AM curfew lifted as well as making the guards leave. A rally is scheduled for tomorrow.

Monday, May 4, 1970 My friends and I arrived right on time for the rally today. It was a very large crowd, all armed with rocks and ready for the National Guard to arrive. They finally did arrive, and I heard them trying to speak to the crowd, though I could not hear what they were saying.

The other students near the front started throwing rocks, and the situation got more heated. All of a sudden, tear gas was thrown, and to my shame I began to panic. My heart screamed at me to get out of there as fast as possible. Anne grabbed my arm and kept me still as we coughed.

It went on like this for I don't know how long, until we heard the gunshots. I lost any composition I had held onto before and I screamed, trying to run away as fast as I could and still keep my head. The three of us ran back to our rooms, and I have not stopped shaking yet.

From these events I have learned that even strong-willed may be subject to death. I was familiar with Allison Krause, one of the shooting victims. We had once studied together in the library, comparing notes and learning together. I am altogether ashamed of myself in believing that such protests can only result in a better world, for now I know that even the events with the utmost well meaning can end in a dark undertone.