Want To Move

We are moving. I couldn't believe it when my parents told me. I didn’t particularly like my school, or my house, or my friends, but I still didn't want to move. The whole idea was scary. Everything I knew in my life would be different. Maybe not worse, but different. And different is enough to scare me. So I refused.
Ten o'clock. Everytime I had thought about it today, anger filled me. My face would feel hot and every muscle in my body would tense. I didn't want to move, I wouldn't move. I would’ve been fine with moving if it had been for Dad's job, or maybe for a fresh start, like normal people. But our family was different. We had to move to be closer to my grandma. I don't even like my grandma! Being a junior in High School was hard enough.

I usually loved to fly, seeing the clouds and all the little towns seemingly so significant as you got higher in elevation. But this time I didn’t love to fly, every minute on the plane only carried me further and further away from home. After getting off the plane, we finally found the baggage claim after getting lost looking for bathrooms. I watched the belt slowly fill up with bags and one by one get picked up by flustered recipients crunched for time. Round and round it went until the baggage claim was empty. I still didn't have my bag. I began to get frustrated. Frustrated at the airline, frustrated at my parents, frustrated at myself. Just as a little panic was about to set in, I saw one large, black bag round the circle. I sprinted to my bag, hugging it. I knew people were watching, thinking I was crazy, but I was okay with that. I had my

The parents slowly surveying it while the children(only me in this case) sprint back and forth desperate to find a better room than their siblings. I don't have any siblings but I definitely would have found the best room if I had any. I planned where everything would go and then quickly opened my bag to set up, exactly how I had envisioned. But it wasn't my stuff in the bag. It was something much different. Sitting on the top, I found a letter. I quickly tore open the letter, intrigued. The letter was blank, all except for a few words. This side up. I laughed, shaking off the tension that had been building up. Pulling the blankets that were stuffed to the sides of the suitcase I peered into the suitcase. All that I found was more letters. Curious, I started flipping through the letters. I quickly realized that they were not your typical letters. With fancy stamps, official font, and a very expensive envelopes, they were US government letters from a few years ago. On each letter stamped in wax was the word, “ For your eyes only.” The letters were dated, April 17th 2013, November 1st 2013 and August 15th 2012. And then finally a date that I recognized, July 8th, 2003. A terrorist attack. I read letter after letter faster and faster not believing what I was reading. All the biggest terrorist attacks on the US had been made up by the media, for the purpose of bringing the US together. It made sense really, tragedy