October B4Peace — Dreams of Peace

This month,  has given us the following: I challenge you to publish what your dream of peace looks like. – Kozo

We can use any of these formats:

• With as much detail as possible, describe a day in a world full of peace.
• What would the radio, internet, television sound/look like in a peaceful world?
• Pick a spot in the world today that has conflict and re-vision this area as peaceful.
• What would all the people who are in active duty to conflict do if we had world peace? How would we alter our spending, resources, and brain power if we didn’t have to worry about war?
• Describe the world you want your children to live in. How would they feel? What would they be doing and with whom?
• Pretend you are the only one living who remembers a world without peace. How would you describe how grateful you are to be living in a peaceful world?

Or, if you prefer, come up with your own ideas. I’m sure Kozo would be happy of any level of participation you can offer to help grow the movement. It’s more than worth it.

So, what can I offer this month. Well, I’m going with a loosely based version of the last option, using the idea for a short, fiction story. I do hope you like it.

The Last Survivor

Eleanor sat in her favourite chair by the window, looking at the expectant faces waiting for her to talk. Today, October 9th 2083, marked her eighty-fifth year on earth, and with slight trepidation, she had agreed to talk to class B from the local school. Thirty-six faces looked back at Eleanor, she knew how many because she’d counted them four times in her head. Faces reflecting purity of youth, free from worries that for her, never existed at the age of nine.

She cleared her throat, a small tremor in her hand started to move up her arm. She clasped it tightly, holding it steady across her lap and began.

‘Hello children. My name is Eleanor Daniels, and I am the last survivor of 2013.’

‘Hello Mrs. Daniels,’ they answered.

She smiled at their response before continuing. ‘Thank you for coming to see me on my birthday. But I suspect you are not here for that, are you.’ They shook their heads in answer. ‘Well then, I suspect you have come to hear my story?’ This time, the thirty-six heads nodded with enthusiasm.

Eleanor took a breath, wondering how much of her story would prove suitable for such young ears. The truth is always best, she thought.

‘It has been seventy years since the great bombing of the earth. I was fifteen, not much older than you when it happened, but then, you already know about this, don’t you?

‘So, I thought I’d tell you a different story. Is that okay with everyone?’

The children nodded, and Eleanor sighed relieved.

‘Well, unlike you, I didn’t know how it truly felt to be safe. At your age, the world was rife with violence, poverty, hunger, death. Not like it is for you today. No, my youth was far different from yours. I woke each morning to the sound of the television informing me of another violent attack, or another bomb exploding somewhere, of children going hungry.

‘We were a greedy, hurtful, self-absorbed world back then. Money and power were the building blocks upon which they ruled the world. Leaders would make speeches, try to placate their nations with words of veiled truths. But it proved no comfort, no help to ease the suffering. People still committed crimes, stealing, murder, heinous acts too vile for you to hear. And war, always war. They would tell us it was for the best, these so-called wars. Tell us of the need for a show of force, to prove we weren’t weak. But I felt weak. Sickened how we could treat a fellow human with such hatred, such longing to prove ourselves more worthy of living.

‘So much violence,’ she whispered, losing herself to her memories.

‘Eleanor. Are you all right?’ the nurse said quietly over her shoulder.

She nodded briefly then took a sip of water, placing the glass back on the table, she looked at the young faces again. ‘There was always hope, though. A small group started in the beginning of 2013. They called themselves Bloggers for Peace, my mother was a willing participant from the very start, believing, hoping that one day, their voices would be heard.

‘Her motto was always “start small”, treat people with respect, and although she feared for us, she never gave up. You see, fear is crushing, overwhelming if you allow it, but it can also generate a need for better things to happen, a better life. Your life.

‘It took a great catastrophe for everyone to pay attention, to see that violence of any kind was not the way. I lost so many people I loved. But I swore to carry on my mother’s legacy, a promise, to ensure the world could finally live in peace.

‘I joined the survivors of B4P in my sixteenth year. Only a small group of fifty-two survived the attacks, and even though we had no power to generate what equipment we had left, we still found a way to communicate our message.

‘Now, I look upon your bright, happy faces, and know that what we achieved brought a renewed understanding of love that had been missing for so many years. A love for each other as equals. A love to combat fear and hate. A love to join the world as one. Peace reigns now, and it is to you we look to keep the message alive. And so I say to you in my mothers words, embrace your peace, whatever form it may take. Stay true to it. Feel it. Love it. Above all though, share it.’

The room erupted with the sound of cheering and hands clapping excitedly. She felt the warmth from a hand placed on her shoulder. She turned her head and looked up into the eyes of her grand-daughter, Emily. It was her time now to keep the word alive. She placed her shaking hand on top of Emily’s and squeezed it gently. Let peace reign, she thought, and smiled.

That’s it, another month passed. Peace out people. But don’t forget to check out everydaygurus.com to read other posts for this month’s challenge.

Related articles

• October Peace Challenge: I Have a Dream (myloveofthoughts.wordpress.com)

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