Chapter 1 - Losing Home

I hope you enjoy this chapter! I will submit more in the future, but if you want more sooner please review and like, or whatever else you do, since I'm still new to all of this! :)

2079 – The rain lashed against the windows, each drop leaving its own individual streak of dirty water on the cracked panes. I studied one of the drops closely, it seemed to be so different compared to the others, the way it stayed in one position before slithering so slowly down the glass, and in turn joining with other drops, gaining speed until it finally dropped off the window altogether. As the drop vanished below the sill, I took in once again the sight of the city beyond, with the constant rain the view was obscured, but in the distance I could make out the old cathedral, and below I could see the other houses along my street.

Oh! How I long to wander outside once more! But the now more common storms make it so difficult, and not to mention the strange noises that haunt these ghostly ruins. The noises are like that of wolves, but they died out with the other animals years ago, back when I was a mere child, in my mother’s arms and being literally spoon-fed the good book every Sunday. It used to be me and a friend who studied it, I cannot quite remember her name, but we were such close friends, almost like childhood sweethearts to some. If all had gone differently, I would have most likely gone and married her when I turned twenty!

This was not the future for us however, when I turned thirteen in the year 2070 my father promised me that no matter what, he would make sure my future was secure in front of his own, and by the time the fighting started in 2076 he made sure that promise was kept. He told me that the governments of the world had started to become unstable, and he believed that another war was going to happen, which put our family into a state not of panic, but of preparation. I remember the day he told me about this:

'Son, Wife, I have good reason to believe that there will be another world war soon,'

'Husband, you must be mad. The world is at peace, why would we need to fight?'

'I don't know, but the governments... They're not like they used to be.'

I remember just staring blankly into his worried eyes, 'What's happened to them dad? Are they arguing with each-other again?'

My father just looked at me and smiled a wry smile, 'Yes son, they are arguing so much that I think it will bring another war. And I think we need to prepare for it.'

'Well if you think so husband, we are both going to stand beside you. For better or for worse.'

As the years passed we began to gather non-perishable supplies and filled our cellar to the brim with them, and also with other things such as blankets and fuel for warmth. Our plan was simple; we would hide away in our home until such a time where we felt that the world outside was safe for exploration and then leave and find other people, maybe even form a new colony, and restart society anew.

This didn’t happen however, by the time 2076 arrived father had been forced to enlist into the military, and mother was sent to work in the factories outside of the town, in the men’s absence. I was left alone when the war began, so the resulting plan of action turned out to be lock down the house and wait out the storm, for however long that may be.

Time passed, and as the months turned into years I grew unsure of my parent’s safe return, I would often stay awake until past midnight waiting for them, but there was never a knock on the door, there was never a doorbell sounding, there was only silence; an endless, painful, frightening silence that filled the whole house and hid within the dark crevasses, waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim, that victim being me. I even have memories of running into their room at the crack of dawn, hoping they might be there, but they never were; the bed was always empty, and I was once again reminded that they were not there.

Now, over three years since the fighting started, I lost hope and resorted to hiding in the annex of the house, which happened to be the attic as well, which meant that the room was filled with oddities such as old photo albums and wall clocks, all covered with layers of cobwebs and dust that not even the most powerful cleaning agent could have cleared. I lived a life of solitude from then on; I never had to leave the attic unless my food supply ran out, in which case it was a simple trip to the cellar to get some more tins and fuel.

With the left over tins I collected rainwater for everyday purposes, since cleaner water had become scarce around the house, and was now my only source of hydration. I would kill the daylight hours by looking through the extensive collections of photos and books strewn about the attic, I vaguely remember finding a copy of the Good Book, and with it I restarted my study, alongside reading ‘technology of the twentieth century’ and ‘ultimate encyclopaedia of science’. The days flew by with these books at my disposal, and eventually time progressed to 2079, which is where I am today, in the present.

Nowadays I lack the books to read; some got soaked when the rain found its way through the roof and onto my collection, others I simply got bored of reading over and over again. I have found my best pastime to be looking out of the window, where outside the view of the silent city remains visible. The city was abandoned when the fighting began, since all the men and women were drafted into the military or sent off to work elsewhere in the war efforts.

However, this does raise one question; what of the sons, the daughters? What about them? I pondered this thought, and drew to a conclusion that a lot of them must have left with the women, or simply gone out of the city to avoid potential conflict. The thought had me so occupied I didn’t notice that the roof had begun to leak once more onto my blankets and books, by the time I noticed they were soaked through, and mighty torrents of water flowed through the wood panelling and down the ladder to the house below, which then reminded me that I had recently gone down to the cellar for supplies, leaving the door open as well. The cellar would be flooded by now!

I dropped down the ladder and made my way down to seal off the cellar entrance, only to find that the water was already inside. 'I feel like such a fool now!' I thought, 'The food and blankets are going to be ruined, and the fuel is going to have met a much worse demise!' I made my way down, but since it was dark I had to light a match to see where my feet were going. It still does surprise me that after all these years of coming in and out of this room, I still cannot get used to the stairs.

I finally got myself down to the cellar, and as I suspected the room was filling with water, it has already gone past my ankles, and it’s sure to go much higher than that if the rain doesn't give soon. The match flame got too close to my fingers, the heat made me jump and release it, and as it fell down I saw the fuel canister: It looked all-right at first glance, but upon further inspection the can was on its side, with the lid off, and the fuel flowing out of it, around my feet, and around the whole cellar… Hang on; I am surrounded by a fire pit just waiting to be lit! The match is still going!

This sudden revelation made me jump up onto the attic staircase, right as the whole room lit up in a bright orange flame. I began to run up the now burning staircase, finding that their old age made them burn a lot faster and collapse everywhere I put my feet. I made my way out and back into the kitchen, but I remembered that this house was made mostly of wood, most of which was as old as those stairs. I began to run towards the front door, while the whole house started to burn like the cellar, the smoke was unbearable, I had to drop down on my knees and crawl to avoid the choking cloud; the flames were so hot they practically pierced my skin, the pain so great I would have cried, if the heat didn't dry up my tears.

I got out onto the street moved away from my house, watching it as I retreated. The foundations weakened, and the whole building collapsed inwards, transforming into a heap of dry stone walls and burning wood and furniture. My senses finally got back to me, and I realised that that tiny match had lost me my only safe place, my only solitude, my only true home.

I stood and looked at the flames; I saw some of the books begin to burn and disappear in a flurry of small ash particles, flying in the wind, and quickly being put out by the rain, which was now starting to end. My time viewing the flames was disturbed by a noise; not one like the strange howls, but more like a footstep, right behind me, getting closer and closer. I turned quickly and faced it's source, and what I saw was something I never thought I would never see.