I am Dirt

Precursor to an almost completed novel. The first book I will ever finish.

My name is Dirt. I am 15 years old, I don’t know why my mom is making me write this down, and I want to go outside. She says we can’t go outside until I finish writing. I need to write 50 words or more. That has to be getting close now.
My name is Dirt. I am 16 years old. I think mom wants me to show how I’m improving with my penmanship or something but I really just want to go outside. So I would like to write my fifty words and move on. Hopefully this is close enough. Or maybe a little more. That should do it.
My name is Dirt. I am 17 years old. I love my family. I miss my sister but there wasn’t anything that anyone could have done for her. Mom says it’ll happen to me too if I don’t behave. I do my best, but her rules are hard to follow sometimes. I’m old enough now to understand that Dad isn’t coming back. I hope that by the time I can write next year’s practice page I will be a happier person.
My name is Dirt. I am 18 years old. I do not need to write this anymore, my mom says but I think it helped last year so I am trying again this year. I miss my dad, I miss my sister. It’s mom and I right now, and that’s all it seems it will ever be. I learned today that the word above our front door is “MallMart” allegedly it used to be a place where a lot of people came for their food and supplies. I asked why they didn’t grow their own but got lost when mom explained the concept of a job for the fifth time. Whatever MallMart used to be, now it’s my home. Mom says we might move soon though.
My name is Dirt, and I am 19 years old. We moved. Now my front door says “MinCo.” It looks a lot like MallMart and had some old metal cans of food hidden in the water room. Mom opened one and told me that it’s called peaches. I like peaches, but they’re very sweet. I brushed my teeth twice tonight. Mom told me we should be safe if we stay close to the back of the place. The front might cave in but it’s good cover from the dangerous people who took my sister. A group of law enforcement called the Armadillos. Apparently they got their name from a really cool insect that could protect itself by rolling up into a ball and it’s shiny black shell protected it. They wear shiny black body armor across their backs and necks.
My name doesn’t matter anymore. I’m 20. Mom’s sick, and the Armadillos are nearby. I don’t have time for this.
My name is Dirt, I am 21. Mom died last year. She took so much with her. I'll miss her for the rest of my life.
My name is Dirt, I am 22 I thought I found the fabled “romantic love”, but I was mistaken. She was only so agreeable because I had food. When the food ran out, so did the feelings. There are so few other people around, I wonder if I’ll ever find that type of love.
My name is Dirt, I am 25, and I have made a very important discovery. While using the walls of a broken down building for cover I found out that the prior people had left behind books full of pictures of naked people. Now I know what I’m supposed to look like, I think. I seem to look okay. I’m a bit more pale than them, and not quite as thin. But I suppose that’s okay. It means I eat well enough.
My name is Dirt and I am a 26 year old idiot. I gave that heartbreaking b***h another chance. I shouldn’t have. The Armadillos tore up my home and forced me out. They would have taken me in if I hadn’t fled. I ran into an android in the dark of night and they sounded an alarm. It seems that humans were the majority population in the pre-war Era. Now the earth is populated by androids, Armadillos, and the “higher form of intelligent life” or Hil for short. Hils are peaceful and don’t mind humans. They spend most of their time sitting still, observing. Mom said if I needed help I should find one.
My name is Dirt. I’m 28 now. I think this will be my last entry, so let’s make it a good one. I found a new journal to write in, and some brand new pens that I collected in the last few weeks in preparation for this.
Let me tell you about my world.

Author's Note

This story has been revised so severely that the final copy of the novel will not include this as the first chapter. The timeline is incongruent with the narrative as it has been unfolding. So enjoy what could have been, not what is.