Chatterbox: Down to Earth

In the aftermath of the war, a tall, brown-haired girl with a sack of newspapers slung over her back clambered out of a trench, and began walking through No-Man's-Land, avoiding barbed wire, and stepping around the bodies of dead AEs. 

The girl was not directly part of the war, in fact, she had tried to avoid it. But, as it was everywhere, she had, of course, been drafted. However the fighting was too much, and she had watched friends struck down in the trench.

But it had still impacted her, she thought, as she touched her cheek, where a scar on her cheek still lingered from when she saw her AE's girlfriend, and one of her CBFFs struck down.

They were gone now.

She leaped over a roll of barbed wire, and looked down where she had arrived.

The remains of the Sacred CBer Musiem, where all the memories of CBers who had left, and all the memoirs of past wars were.

Brushing aside a data entry on the Great Hamilton War, she frantically searched amoung the rubble and the broken glass for one of the greatest things, that so many Cbers had forgotten. And after a long search, she found it, underneath a photo of all the AEs that were lost during the # of AEs War.

She slowly pulled out a battered white cardboard box, that had once held hotel soap, but had borne the weight of many Cbers before her.

Abi's Soapbox.

The girl placed a tattered CB newspaper headline inside the box, maybe for a symbolic reason, maybe to help support her weight, but for whatever reason, she closed the soapbox, and stepped up on it. 

"Fellow CBers!" she said, "We have just gone through one of the most horrible wars that I have ever seen on here. Keep in mind, I havn't seen much, but this war just might take the cake. And as a result of this war, three of my friends have left, and I might be forced to get rid of one of my AEs, as without Pinkie, he has no point.

"I've thought about leaving. But you know what?  I've realized that a lot of amazing people are leaving. And if I leave too, maybe more people on top of that will leave. And I don't want to make everyone leave. It's my job to make things better, not to turn away and run. I'm not saying that's what Cho and Daisy and Joss are doing. They aren't running because everyone else is, like I wanted to do. They have a reason. But you know what, as a Christian, I can respect their decision. We all have ways of expressing our religion. And this is how they feel comfortable. So I refuse to get angry at them for leaving. Because I have been tempted to do that. Which is not cool on my part.

"I can respect Gared, too. He just wanted to cultivate diversity on the CB. Which, I think is totally okay. We need to respect everyone in this world. And that's all Gared tried to do. For that I applaud him. And I'm sorry we had to dissagree on this, and start a war.

"To all those who have chosen to leave: the thing is, I'm going to miss all of you. But I feel like I need to be here, because if I leave, I don't get to do something good on here. And, that's what I really want to do in life. Do good. 

"So, now, CBers!" the girl yelled, her voice cracking as she attempted to control the tears that were threatening to spring from her eyes. Because Newsies didn't cry. "This has been hard on all of us! Even those who have not been directly involved have been struck by the shrapnel of this war. But it's up to us, those of us who have stayed, to rebuild the CB. Because, no matter what, through ups and downs, we're all here for a reason: because we all love writing. And in the end, we can respect each other's differences, and become friends." 

She bit her lip, still trying to keep the sobs back. "I love you guys. You guys are like my second family. And I would do anything to make this right between us. To all who are staying; thank you, and I'm sorry you had to see this happen. To the Admins; I'm sorry that this ever happened, and that you had to make this hard decision. And to all who are leaving; you are amazing. And I'm going to miss you so much. Just remember everyone you left behind once in a while. Because we will, never, ever, ever forget you."

Finished with her speech, Brooklyn Newsie stepped down from the soapbox, and tucked it in her pocket. She didn't even bother to try to hide her tears now. Wet, and hot, and bitter, and salty, they rolled down the Newsie's cheeks, as she grabbed her newspapers, and headed off toward the trench. She was going to repair this broken place. No matter how many tears it took.