The Truth

Vasilia Koutsivitis '25

I squeezed my eyes shut and tilted my head toward the sky. It had been a long time since I had felt the rays of a real sun on my face. It seemed to warm me from the inside out, and my shoulders relaxed. I felt as if nothing could tear me away from this temporary moment of reprieve until I opened my eyes and scanned the area around me. 

I was met with a barren landscape. The world was so gray - as far as the eye could see, there was charred grass, slumped trees, crumbling buildings, and dead flowers. The nuclear war had destroyed everything. Could my family even still be alive? 

                                                           …

The government had known about the nuclear threat and chose not to tell anyone. I barely had enough time to run to an abandoned bomb shelter that day. After months in a dark, windowless hole, I needed to get out and see the destruction for myself. I needed to see if anyone survived. 

The sad part is, I think the government did this to their own people. They did it to get rid of us for finding out their most carefully guarded secret: the truth. But somehow, I can't remember it now. My mind feels like a blank slate, like it was erased.

         …

For now, I had to focus on the task at hand. I was stranded in the middle of Utah, and I had to get to my family in California. I held my phone above me, desperately trying to get a bar of cell service, but to no avail. “Ugh!” I screamed in frustration, and I threw my phone behind me. Only, it didn’t fall on the floor. 

“Easy there, I wouldn’t break this if I were you,” said a scratchy voice. I whipped my head around to see an elderly man holding my phone. He was dressed in tattered clothing, and a hat covered his matted hair. I took a step back just as his cracked lips parted as he said, “Do you want to know the truth?”