The strange white tower stood higher then anything else in town. Whilst it was being built, people stared in wonder then thought if the alarm would truly work.
The mayor held an opening ceremony but that was a flop. Who would want to celebrate the turning on of a machine that was so experimentally? Especially, when there was so much danger in the streets.
Gradually, a month later, people’s minds were beginning to change. It had been weeks since the last reported zombie entering town had been shot. So maybe, the high pitched alarm was keeping them all away after all?
A war was going on in the office between the Halloween lovers and the Christmas lovers. All the decorations kept getting switched around until one day, everyone around at work and saw that someone who had clearly had enough of the war had created a new combined holiday; Hallomas.
Even now, in the middle of nowhere, in the the heart of darkness and grip of the coming winter, did people still keep the candles burning in the old tiny chapel.
If by chance you came across someone and asked them why, they would reply, ‘to keep the evil spirits away. Pray there to be kept safe before continuing your journey.’
You would go and do that. Enter the tiny white building with lots of light spilling out of the door and single window. Take off your snowflake covered hat and kneel before the baby alter. Pray for safe passage through the Nomad Mountains and ask God to protect you from evil spirits, Amen. Then you leave and make it safely back home.
Or perhaps, that response would amuse you because you don’t believe in such things. You carry on, not going inside the chapel but merely glancing at the light pouring out of the tiny building. You walk into the mountains, where you hear crying and screaming. Darkness rolls over you, consuming you and you never make it home.
I’m drowning under the weight of it all and nothing makes sense. I want to stop and go away. I need to get back to the person I was before and not the one I’m now trapped in.
Everyone wears a mask. It’s easy to hide that way. You pretend to be someone else or fake being happy. Masks though have a tendency to slip off and mine has. Nobody likes what’s underneath, including myself.
What is this crazy voice in my head making me believe all these lies?
It’s killing me but I can’t talk about it because I sound insane.
It was a crazy idea, an office set up outside wouldn’t work! Mr.Cooper believed his team would be more productive without the ‘shackled desk’ atmosphere. It did improve things for awhile but then it rained and nobody wanted to work outside anymore.
The old carpenter led the village children to the edge of the woods and showed them what he had been building in secret during the spring months.
The little wooden house stood proudly and a bit crooked amongst spindly trees. Inside wooden furniture and soft finishing the carpenter’s wife had made give the place a homely feel. And for a few minutes you could imagine a family of small people living there.
The children laughed, they thanked the old carpenter, ‘danke, danke!’ and rushed off to play.
The carpenter watched them for awhile, sadness growing in his heart then he turned and went home.
His wife was dozing by the fire, a shirt she had been mending sliding off her knees. The carpenter sat down opposite her and she awoke with a start.
‘The kinder like the house,’ he said.
‘Good, I’m glad,’ his wife replied.
A heavy silence fell between them, disturbed only by the fire crackling away. They were each lost in their own thoughts, imagining the children they had never had.