My very first ever fully imagined story (one that I never actually wrote down) came to me in pieces when I was 13 and 14 years old.

I imagined a cadre of brothers in arms, youthful soldiers like myself. The setting was futuristic and sci-fi.

Somehow, in all my imaginings, none of us ever died.

We fought together and bled. We suffered, but we suffered romantically and stoically.

Then lived to fight another day.

Real soldiers learn fast, Chloe Cuthbert, that real life doesn’t work that way.

Thanks.