I wanted to get off of this strip of land, to go on adventures and do stuff that other kids normally didn't do. Like those three kids from so long ago, the three that our parents use as a "bad example" when, in truth, they turned into legends. Their names are Riku, Kairi, and Sora, all of them about twelve when they left. People like me would love spending time with their friends, telling stories about them and creating fantasies that stretched further and further beyond reality, about some more of us escaping like they did, having adventures all over the place, and finding new places to explore, getting away from the restraints of our new society.
My home consisted only of a city, a few small villages, and then farmland, while the rest of the land had meadows and unexplored forests, forests that many of the teens my age had already explored. It wasn't really all that grand, when you finally began exploring and had nothing that could hold our own interests for long, except for one strip of land, a small strip, and certainly nothing interesting to the adults. This land was along one of the many coasts and was a hidden tropical paradise, the shores of which were beyond a few miles of dense forest. This was the perfect spot to hide from our parents and from the harsh reality they reinforced. We would spend several nights there, camping out and having fun with no parental supervision, our parents believing that we were just there to camp, nothing more. They didn't know anything about our secrets that remained only on the island, they didn't know about what we did there.
There were many ways to get to our paradise, dubbed Yvonne, after the child who had first visited there. Yvonne, unfortunately, had died from cancer a year after finding it, the reason why that plot of land held her name. It also served as a name that didn't make our parents suspicious of our activities; they suspected that we had created a shrine in the woods, a place where we honored the girl who died so young. None of us had grown enough to be adults ourselves, and therefore the secret remained.
As years passed, the elders, or oldest of the people who congregate on the beach, would find children that had just turned nine; they would, in turn, be taken to the paradise, keeping our legacy running. Soon, it would be elder's time to leave. It was agreed that once we became adults, at eighteen, we would leave forever, and never mention this place ever again to anyone, never to visit again, either. This was a paradise of childhood, and it was preserved as long as we followed the rules that had been set up.