Thursday, January 19, 2017


This is the same world as last weeks apocalyptic story. This week's terribleminds challenge was something that scares you.

My mother, often while standing at the sink doing dishes, would ask me, “What do you fear, Wolfeite? What are you going to overcome now?”

I never ask the question in return. My mother’s fears were never known to me. This question had become part of my life and I never question why she asked it.

Today, now, at this moment, standing in front of the house that had become too crowded with its five inhabitants, I ask myself my fear. While I’m thinking on it, I see the old woman with a new load of bags all completely filled. She is hunched over and this hunch is still present when she is not loaded down with a new load.

“What momentous thing are you going to do today, Wolfeite?”

I know the voice instantly. It is Thorite.

“Today, with this blue sky, with the dirt road in front of me, with the woman walking by with her loaded bags. I think I will seek out a house that is empty.”

“A futile task then. They are filled. You know that.”

“Indeed I do.” I walk off following the woman. It has been three months since my group of friends was herded to this village. Three months since one life ended and this new one began. This time my fear wasn’t a fear of being alone. I still feared never seeing her again but now new fears had entered me. Every morning, rising from my bed, I wondered if my knees would ache as much as they did yesterday. When planting my bare feet on the floor, I mentally took note of the degree of pain in my back.

Falling in with slow measured steps of the women, I said a quick hello to just say I was there. We continued our steps in silence.

The dirt road continued and then turned down a hill. I hadn’t been down that hill since I came to Beryl. That is the name we were told but I have never found a sign to confirm the town’s name. She continues along a rocky path that rises. There is still room for me to walk next to her and we continue.

The sun is above us and the trees no longer shade the path. Sweat drips from my hair to my neck combining with trickles running down my back. The path turns into a clearing and I see a brown porch railing. The woman walks up to the door and opens it.

“Come on. I’m in need of refreshment.” She walks into the house leaving the door open.

I’m awe struck when I walk through the door and see the view through the bank of windows. The house must sit on the edge of a cliff because I’m looking at the tops of the mountains.

“It is all yours. I fear Beryl is getting too crowding and I’m not finding much to fill my bags. I leave in the morning.”

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