Friday, April 28, 2017

Cold Blood Revenge

This short story was written with no prompt. It had been pre-written but was divided into three parts and slightly altered to fit a serial article form. As a free-write story, it was written mainly to target the tragedy of war.

Cold Blood Revenge
By Kaitlyn Weko
Edited By Keara Galbraith

Orphaned snowflakes fall shyly from the sky, each one has their own look and personality. Skeletons of sleeping trees with white blankets of frost dot the lands. Whispers of death travels on the chilled air with ease and no determination on giving way. Frozen imprints point in every man's battle of death. The war has dragged its cold-blooded legs, deep into frustrating misery. War not only kills great numbers, but our feelings die along side of it. Feelings used to be so carefree, now everyone is in absolute sorrow. The grave effort it takes to get a smile or even a slight chuckle is beyond impossible. Mother has always said that smiles make the difference. Life is now just too complicated for agony hidden smiles and cold chuckles.
My mother turns to me with her tired, worn face and with a big sigh, asked, “I forgot to pick up cinnamon and flour while I was at the market, I can't finish the pies without it. Can you please go get me some? Four tablespoons of cinnamon and a pound of flour.”
With grave effort, I pushed a smile and reply, “Of course mother” Turning to the door, I grab my black cloak and step in the newborn snow. Hastily walking to the barn to escape the bitter cold, I pry the rusty doors ajar, Callie snickers at my appearance. Grabbing her bridle I notice that a few things are missing, mostly my father's. I turn back to Callie and tack her up and head off to the market. The streets had no sign of means of travel in hours, they were vacant. Callies harsh white breathes and my numb hands are both signs that we both are seeking warmth. Distant candle light points out the outline of the town. The flames dancing rhythmically to every fallen flake. Callie picks up her speed in her sudden excitement of nearing town. The clopping of her hooves trotting along are the only sound around as night has been approaching. The sky has a grayish navy tint to it and the first star has just made its presence. I tie the rains and courteously walk the steps into the general shop. Tea and vibrant spices great my nose. The man looks up and gives his usual fake smile.
“What can I get you miss?” He asks.
“Four tablespoons of cinnamon and a pound of flour please,” I reply.
My feet take me around the store and stop at a window that shows off my reflection; Pale eyes reflect back at me while my long bronze hair falls far past my shoulders. I turn and come back into reality.
“Miss, your order is ready,” The old white shopkeeper calls out. I grab the sack, move to the door, and leave.
I arrive back at home just as the last star shows its face. Callie back in the barn I head to the house but stop in my tracks; looking up at the sky with all of its glitter, I think of father. Matthew and father haven't written in over a month, leaving mother in a wreck. With them at war, it makes life harder for me and mother. For a mother and a daughter to run a farm on their own is a challenge, but we manage. Continuing on to the house I felt an odd presence but don't pay no mind to it. I bring the sack to the pantry but interrupted by a sudden force driven at my head, the end of a musket. 
        Everything is black.

To Be Continued…

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