Sara Goodsell

Silence and Repetition

I couldn’t believe how stupid I had been. I had one job, to find something useful, food, clothing, clean water, but all I had found was a stupid, old, golden heart shaped locket that wouldn’t even open. I wasn’t even sure why it was still clutched in my hand, like a rosary, while I shuffled my way back home before the darkness set in and all the world would be quiet and black, save for the moon and sparsely lit candles. Our home was tucked away in a small field surround by sage brush and pine trees, an old ranger cabin in the middle of nowhere. As I approached my home I could see dark grey billowing smoke at a distance that seemed too close for comfort, someone had let their fire get out of control. I shoved the locket into my pocket before opening the door to home.