The Family (Creative Writing)

The Family


A brilliant collection of records seared on a holographic film
Kept hidden within vault and camouflage
Repressed for a century, cornered upon soft walls
Chilled and masked, blanketed until winters end



We’ve piled high the snow and sandbags, growing weary of the sleepless nights, yet pushing forward ‘til dawn breaks and our fear turns back. As if to greet us, congratulate our survival, the sunlight leans forward to reveal our newborn lives and worlds, each individually grateful to be welcomed. A thin mist follows the new light, lazily grazing as it comes.

A sharp gash in a window raises alarm, as we are reminded of the risks in exposing ourselves to the outside. The unknown is feared in these times, and fear is our only hope to finding the new light once more when dusk fails.

I observe the women straining with absent mind, arms heavy for our family, they bring supplies, foods, and the blocks of life up hills, through deserts and from stream to ocean, glacier and broken city. They silently pine, hoping to wake from a dream and have this world blow from theirs with the next breeze to pierce the dead night airs.

Brought and left among the remnants of our beds, homes and lives; everything we own lies cradled between the stone walls that keep us well and draped over the frozen rock that holds us down. The harsh winter pins us to our homes, driving us back when we venture out.

Food is scarce and water runs dry over night, opposing the winter at our doorstep, forcing us out of our den to search the fields and pits for our morning meal. In the past, lakes ran through our homes, bringing food and water to greet us, but times have changed and pleasures are lacking for us now; the earth beneath us bears no gifts or rewards, we must search long and hard for those. Our families suffer in the wind and rain as they have never before, facing each storm with the resolve of a country under siege.



Piercing the thick mist from a window, I watch a stream of hunters drift by with no care for the ice on their shoulders or wolves at their heels. These stalkers of man wander daily through our homes in search for blood; in fear of little out there, though they are sought for death themselves.

We lay in hiding for many days at a time, knowing the skill of those that walk the fields in our precious nights. Yet for all this time our families have survived the desolate plains of the land, finding refuge where we can and defying the wishes of those that would see us fall.

Brushing against me, the thick bush lines my coat in a carpet of icicles. As I peer into the storm and witness the endless waves of crystalline rain pulsing towards the earth, my family rests for the day, packing food and blankets for the night ahead. The rustle of leaves and snow in the night haunts my children through their dreams and keeps our guards wide awake, if the howling wolves are not enough.

I am among the guards for tonight. We desperately await nothing, hoping for a threat to emerge so that we may prove our worth... though we pray for endless peace tonight and for all nights to come.

I step with hesitation towards the pitch black, where the forest conceals it's guests and our sight is taken from us. A flaming torch dissolves only the closest shadows, providing a narrow gap for our guards to watch the night. We shiver as the leaves flicker with the flame, casting an army of dark figures upon us...



Resting behind shelter, we watch the morning emerge slowly from behind the tree line. As the light pours through, men who spent the night hurling spear and arrow towards our shrouded foes, now weave through branches to collect their weapons. The murmur of voices from our camp greets the sunrise, calling us to return to our families.

The women had risen by the time we made our way back to the main camp. They round up children for the morning meal, greeting us over their shoulders as we pass. We drag our feet, weary from the night behind us and looking forward to resting our heads.

I stop for a moment to watch one woman emerge from a doorway. She blinks at the sunlight, smiling and stretching her arms above her head. She seems to glow, and when most would stumble from their sleep, she floats and seems somewhat blessed by the morning. My gaze lingers on her, my mind completely still while I watch. Her being captivates me; be it her natural beauty, the glossy morning light or exhaustion playing with my mind. I stand and watch her bathed in the sunlight.



To be continued…

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