Answer:
Quick question- which conflict is this? I wrote this based on the recent one.
Explanation:
If I die, let this diary be a reminder of my life, and why peace must be valued above all else.
My father taught me to read and write before he died. My mother is dead too. I am the only one left. I guess that I am lucky to have been taught these things. Many other little children aren’t. It used to feel like a curse, but now it feels like a blessing. I am able to express myself on the page in a way I was never able to do with speech.
I am alone, crouched in a corner of a refugee camp. All around me are scenes of horror, of death. Children sitting alone, like me, and grown-ups my grandpas’ age rocking themselves gently, turned mad by the explosions. I feel a bit mad too. The nurse comes up to me and takes me gently by the hand. ”What are you writing?” She askes me gently. I tell her that I am writing a promise. I will never let this happen again to my people. The nurse hugs me as the pen and paper fall from my hands, and as I am called into the light.
