Dear mother,

I apologize for not writing sooner, but I haven't had much time to do anything. Our Commander, Wicked believes that training is the only thing that should be going through our heads. The only reason I'm able to write now is because he felt dizzy earlier today, and is resting. He's only fifty-five, so he should recover soon. His son, Death is taking over until that point. He doesn't believe in training constantly, so I've got it easier now. I realize what you might be thinking, and yes, those are their real names. It's a family tradition of theirs, so all of the boys that were born into their family have odd names. Death has a son who is here, but he's not part of the army. It's because he's only a baby, which makes me wonder why he's even here in the first place. His name is Bad News.
Mom, when this is all over, if we win the war, I'm going to request that you come live with me, on the rebellion side. Wicked said that he wants to name it something else, but I'm not sure what that might be.
I miss you,
-Carl

~

Dear Mother,
Once again, I'm sorry for not writing. It's been two years, and I've been so distracted by everything to remember to write.
Wicked is still Commander, and he is still training us to death, but he lets us have time to ourselves more often now.
Bad News has grown up so much. He's even taught himself to fight, although I don't think that's a good thing. He cut off a man's toe yesterday, it was a dreadful thing to witness.
I've made friends with some of the other soldiers, but most of them don't like me much.
They just don't understand me.
Most of the time I don't eat much, but Death said that I shouldn't have to eat as much as the older soldiers. It's times like those that I wish I had waited longer to join.
How's Sam? Is he going to join in three years like he said he would? That would require the war to be still going on of course, but I wish that he was here. I haven't met anyone that has been a better friend than him. Tell him happy birthday for me, I know it's coming up.
Please write back.
-Carl

~

Dear Mother,
This is probably my last letter to you. The past three years have been hectic, we've had battles every day since the day I sent that last letter to you. We were just ambushed. Wicked was killed, and I have been left to watch Bad News. He's five now, and has been begging me to let him fight out there. We're hiding in one of the tents, and I'm not sure what's happening.
I'm finally eighteen. When the new recruits came, I searched for Sam, but I didn't see him. That's because he died, isn't it? He died three years ago, after I had sent you that letter, but you couldn't bring yourself to write back, because you knew that you'd have to tell me.
It's okay, I recon I'll be joining him soon anyways. I hope that he didn't feel any pain, but I know that's not true. I heard about the guys that shot everyone in the streets, I saw Sam's name on the list, so you don't have to tell me.
When the recruits came, I guess I was just hoping that it wasn't true.
But of course, it was true.
I don't want to be afraid any-

Mrs. Benson, this unfinished note was found with your son. I'm sorry, but he was killed during our last battle. He died for this revolution, an he died protecting my little boy. For that, I am eternally grateful. As part of my gratitude, you are welcome to come live on The Wicked Side, which was named after my father, who also died. Many perished so we could have the wall that will divide the world into two parts made. And I'm personally inviting you to live on this side. I hope that you will accept.
Thank You
-Death Fear
(and Bad News Fear)