Living In The Dirt: Daily Life in WWI

~Chapter Two~

I was halfway to my destination. I had lost track of how many days it had been since the night I had left home. Already I was hiding away in a car of a train headed toward Russia. If I could make it to Russia, I would be safe. So far, no one had checked this car, but my luck would not hold out, I was sure. If the train stopped soon, I would get off and stow away on the next one, or find another borrowed ride. If not, I would have to find another place on the train to hide. I could not stay here forever.

I fell asleep. It was very easy to fall asleep to the endless, lullabye-like rocking of the car. The train had finally come to a stop. This must have been what woke me up. I put my ear to the door, listening. I heard nothing. There were no voices, no detectable footsteps. I opened the door only an inch and peeked out. Seeing no one, I pushed it open further and jumped out. I did not waste time closing the door again. I would let the engineers find it open, and draw their useless conclusions. They would never decide that their culprit was a seventeen-year-old, poverty-stricken Irish girl.

I ran with as much energy as I could muster. I had not eaten for hours, but I did not dare rest there, for fear that I would fall asleep again, and someone would find me. I could not be found there, wherever there was, unless there was Russia. That was my haven, my final destination. I would be safe there. I ran until buildings popped up around me, and I was in the marketplace. I needed to find out where I was without anyone figuring out who I was.

I managed to stay blended in with the few people who were out. It was early evening, and not many people roamed the streets. I found a newspaper stand and paid the man for a paper. I soon realized that this was pointless on my part. It was in a language I could not read well. I could only make out a few words. I could tell from the heading that the city I was in was called Milan. I knew enough of my geography to figure out that I was in Italy, just south of the border between Italy and Switzerland. I started out for the nearest train station, since I still had a long way to go before I reached Russia. As I stopped for a quick rest, to eat and attend to more personal needs, I paid close attention to my surroundings. I still was not safe. Italy had not chosen a side in the war, that I had heard of, but I had been traveling for days without exposure to the news. During my journey, Italy could have become a haven for the enemy army. I had no reason to believe that anyone would know my origins unless I spoke to them, but since Germany was at war with Russia, France, and Britain, I believed their army would be more on edge, more mistrusting toward strangers. And I was certainly a stranger to Italy.

I hurried as fast as I could to the train station. The train was already in the station, and luckily it was heading to Russia. However, my luck stopped there. There were hundreds of people boarding, thanks to the war, and the non-passenger cars were being loaded and watched. Shoot. I would have to buy a ticket. I searched through my leather pouch and frowned. I would not have much left afterward. I would have to ration the rest of my food and money for the rest of my journey. I turned to the man at the ticket booth and he asked me a question in what I assumed was Italian. I replied in my language, asking for one ticket to Russia and hoping he understood...

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He understood despite the fact that I asked in Irish, and he worked in Italy. I assumed it was because he worked in a train station ticket booth. He would need to know the languages of his customers. I thanked him, boarded the train, and settled in for what would hopefully be the final leg of my journey to Russia.

Apologies

To all of my readers:
I apologize for not logging on as much recently. Actually, let's rephrase that. I apologize for not logging on AT ALL recently. I honestly wish I could keep up with posting stories and such as often as I would like to. I guess I just don't think to check this website much. I will try to post more, even if it is just short stories for entertainment. I think I will take a bit of a break from the Guardian Chronicles, as much as I love them. (They are my baby.) However, I think I will keep up with the WWII story, seeing as it is easier for me to make something up on the spot, and requires less concentration than typing something I already wrote in a little book. I will try to post these at least once a month, but I make no guarantees. So, until next time, my friends.

May you be the only limit to your imagination.