In my early teenage years, I was given a computer, which I used for school and for my own personal education. I had a ton of important and unique information that I had kept for a long while. I worked hard on a project called The Seven Blue Seas. That project was about discovering all the inhabitants that roamed our oceans and seas. I had one of my colleagues working on it as well. As time flew rapidly, my friend and I had a lot of progress and information for the first 2 years. Everything looked fine and ready to be distributed to the population of my country. All the newspapers and articles discussed the upcoming release of our project on The Seven Blue Seas.
  At the beginning of summer, we decided to release it and show it to the public. However, my computer had viruses and codes that showed up on the screen randomly, like a possible hack. I was amused by how slow my laptop worked. It glitched and also cracked a little. My friend and I had no idea what was going on. Every time we tried releasing it, a foreign language appeared and we were no longer in control of this device. The following day, after fighting to get it to work the night before, I carried it to one of my friends' electronic store to figure out what was going on. In his words, he applied, " the only way to fix the device would be restarting and changing all the passwords". I had no words to describe my emotions and how I felt. It felt like I wasted my life for this, all the hard work, the research, and lastly, the time I spent on the project. I cried away as my friend cheered me up by patting me gently on the back and whispering, "it's going to be ok".
  Here I am, standing alone after my only real friend passed away due to a heart attack seventeen years ago. The one time I had a chance of becoming one of the richest people in the world alongside my passed friend. The computer ended up crashing and we needed to throw the computer off at the sea where it was safe off of anyone's hands or control. The darkness that terrorized me, the moments I had alongside my best friend is truly unforgettable at this point. I would never forget the pain I felt when my computer crashed.

The Destroyed Ship

 In the early 1900s, the Santiago De La Marca ship that carried the American army back to their home base, was ripped in the deadly winds and thunder of the storm that struck the sea with rapidness and power. Sadly, it carried most of my colleagues and they all died. That day we were extremely happy and joyful that we got the win against the Nazis. The ship seemed fine, but the weather was horrifying. I remember the violent pushing and swaying of the ship, which threw most of the soldiers off the barricade. I was the only survivor of such an incident and I was very gratified of that. It took me years to actually talk about it with people because it was traumatizing. I could visualize the blood of my mates gushing all over the place, puke on the floor and even the body of my best friend lying dead.

  As the boat was being ripped apart, I saw a smaller boat in the distance and decided to dive for it. It was extremely difficult to get there, but I finally got to my destination and drifted away. I washed ashore and started to seek around for help or anyone who would be around the area. I walked and walked and unexpectedly found a tiny, wooden house that had a locked door. I proceeded to slowly, but cautiously, crawl to the front door and knocked. I observed something strange behind the window, like a moving human. I knocked even harder this time, then got an answer. The door slowly opened, and a tall man, wearing a swimming suit and black gloves came out of the shack and greeted me with joy. He took me inside and served me a cup of whipped cream, hot chocolate . Afterward, he sat in a chair right across me, and softly asked me to tell him what happened to me and why I was in the condition of a lunatic that escaped out of the . I told him the story and he then agreed on calling the West Wild's Police Station which was the closest station to the island.

  Since the island, I was in was so far from cities and the military bases, the police took a very long time to get to me. It took them about 8 hours to arrive. As they arrived, I was full of joy and happiness with the feeling of being rescued, until the same guy who "rescued" me pulled a knife out a pocket knife and stabbed me as hard as he can in the stomach. I fell to my knees and then laid on the sandy floor acting dead. When I opened my eyes I saw the lights of a place where I have visited before, a place full of death. I sat up and walked out of the room and recognized some of the allies I knew and also thought they were dead. A few seconds later, a doctor called Dr. Erik George Houston Williams approached me and said that I was in a 10-year coma. That was the day I would never forget.