Jackson's Three Day-Personal Narrative

A short, slender boy sat on top of an old log quietly by the fire. He had short, jet black hair, light brown eyes, and light brown skin. The boy, named Jackson (at least that is what he called himself after World War III), was only sixteen years old, but he had been through more pain and hardship than most people in their entire lifetime. He stared intently into the small blaze, deep in thought. “Why her?” Jackson thought to himself as he glanced quickly at the girl huddled up by the fire a few feet away from him. The girl looked to be about the same age as Jackson, vertically challenged, with long wavy blonde hair, fair skin, and deep dark brown eyes.. Both her and Jackson had mud, dirt, and blood smeared and smudged on their clothes, face, arms after the events that occurred earlier in the day. “Of course it had to be her. I just couldn’t have found anybody else? I can’t seriously be this unlucky.” It had been quiet for a very long time, when suddenly the girl said, “Th-th-thank you,” she stammered, “for what you did back there. I

Then, Jackson said, “Three days: You were out for three days in the safe. That’s why you were so weak. The bombs went off four days ago and because I found you today, that means you were out for three days in the safe.”

“Wh-what?” Olympia replied, “Three days? That’s all it took for the world to be reduced to this?” She motioned her hand to the barren wasteland around her.

“Yep, pretty much.” Jackson said. “The world no longer has any form of government or order, and the population of the world has been significantly reduced. In fact, you’re the first person I’ve talked to since the bombs dropped.”

“The first person? So that must mean none of your friends or family survived?” asked Olympia.

“Most likely, my home was even closer to the bomb than your house was.” Jackson said as he stoked the fire.

To which Olympia replied “How on earth did you manage to survive it