Very cold, snow keeps coming. We are in old church, trying to keep warm. It feels wrong to burn fire inside but if we don’t we’ll die. There is little food and water, we are trying best to survive. Must hold out till support and supplies arrive.
It’s wrong to go war with Russia in winter. The people are use to it and know how to survive. We don’t and are badly equipped. I fear I never see you again and this church will become my grave. I hold tight to memory of you and pray all time for saviour.
This is just a quick note to say that I and the crew had arrived safe in the Black Forest. We have all ready been out hunting mushrooms. I know I should be taking it easier but I couldn’t wait! This could be the scientific discovery that changes everything!
It’s all so exciting but everything must be kept secret. I can’t let my competitors know anything and so to make sure you stay safe, once again all my letters will be pretty plain. Please use the return address on this postcard to write back to me with.
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.