My Pa loved three things. His wife, Clint Eastwood movies and Waylon Jenning’s music. You can guess why they named me Clint Waylon Yeller. We grew up in Lexington, Kentucky. I say we, because we Yeller’s are a big family. Got a couple brothers: Austin, Bodean, Buck, Judas; Ma and Pa; and of course Grandma Marybeth. Life was hard every now and then, that’s how it is in rural Kentucky. We didn’t have a lot, but that's alright. We had each other, and got along just fine. You can have a house full of shit, but that won’t do you any good if you got no one to share it with, and that's what we had, we had family. 

Growing up was good, we had enough to get by most times, except when the flood of 2010 came around the bend. We lost a lot, but like I said, we had family but without a house full of shit this time. We rebuilt, and I got to skip a lot of a school for it which was great. We grew real close during those years, but not everything lasts forever. Brothers graduate or drop out, join the military, get in trouble with the law. Clint graduated grade twelve with pretty dent marks, despite losing the house and dealing with some of the family drama that happened since then. Since graduating, he worked at various supermarkets trying to get into college like every American youngster dreams of, but never really expecting to leave the small town life. Not too many people get out, especially when the rest of the world continues to move on around you, you just feel lost and left behind. I think that’s why most Americans feel like the system has failed them. 

Nothing stays the same, especially when Bodean joined the military. He was truly the first of us to really leave, and not just go to the Mississippi and back. He left the country, went overseas for some operation in Norway or such. Buck was working on the farm and Judas was in and out of the local jail more times than I could count. Grandma pushed the family to consider selling the Farm. Ma and Pa were getting old themselves, and after Pa’s heart attack things slowed down in a big way. Then people started getting sick, things were starting to get scary. I’ve watched a few of those movies, and it just felt a little too real. Then it got real. Real fast. Bodean told us the place he was at Nyheim was safe, isolated and away from the tension. 

Riots, sickness and chaos consumed the land. Not just in Lexington, but all across the country people lost their collective shit. We scrounged up enough cash to pay a boatman with a few other families onboard too. Just like the refugees who come to America, we were doing the opposite, trying to get out of a place falling apart. And that’s just what we did, sailing across the ocean for the first time in my life. I’ve gone swimming a few times in lakes and ponds, a river once, but you never realise how powerful the ocean is until you're in its grips. We sailed, and one night I truly thought we were going to die, like that Gordon Lightfoot song. After the storm, we could see the coastline, that’s when we were attacked. 

A barely survived, some younger kid I was getting along with was pretty good, I saw him die right in front of me, his head burst like a water balloon. I can’t stop seeing it when I sleep some nights. I got off the boat and made it to shore, but I don’t know where my family is. We were separated. I started off with two others from another family called Franklin, but they didn’t want me around, calling me a liar for taking them here. It didn't make sense, but I didn’t care, I ran, and I ran. The trees are huge here, and the nights are cold. I don’t know if I’ll survive here. I hope so. I just want to find my family.