Survival

The world outside is treacherous and hostile. It’s been weeks since we’ve been stuck in this hideout. A measly hollowed log being the most dangerous of our camps the last couple weeks. Everywhere we’ve tried to make our home has been lost to the horrific creatures of this world. My six children and I have been trapped here with no food for days. My husband left to scout the area and gather food, but he hasn’t returned yet and I'm starting to worry he will never return.

We lost our eldest son a month ago. We had found an ancient structure that must have been made by giants generations ago. It had clearly been abandoned. Just a hollow shell of the mighty fortress it had once been. It still had a warmth to it though. Protection from the coming winter that we knew would be harsh and force foraging into a death sentence. We thought this place would serve as a perfect home for our family. My husband went out to find a steady supply of food, while our eldest son chose to scout the fortress for any scraps. Anything left behind by the monolithic creatures would surely last us a while. The children and I were settling into a hole in one of the massive walls we found, where there was an abundance of warmth and materials for bedding. It was not long before a horrendous screech echoed throughout the gargantuan halls, only followed by a bellowing roar. It had to be my eldest. I scrambled to the entrance of our home only to see my son being batted down by an enormous creature with vibrant orange fur, giant fangs, and razor-sharp gleaming claws. I cried out to my son, but he did not respond. As I witnessed the feral creature sink its glistening fangs into him, I saw there was no life left within him. It looked up and locked its eyes; its gaze sharp enough to cut the air in my chest. I heard a deep, guttural growl emanate from the beast. I ducked back into our new home to hide and calm my terrified children. The loss of my eldest child just reaffirms to me how heinous this cold unforgiving world is.

The tragedy of losing our son to that beast and the ever growing need to feed my family, has left me reeling. I thought for sure that abandoned castle would be our home, but that unholy monster would have hunted us for food or for sport. I found someone else roaming these lands. We talked for a while, and in my desperation, I thought of doing the unthinkable to feed my family. He broke me from my twisted thoughts; informing me that there was a field of wheat just a short walk from where we stood. I fell to my knees and thanked him for providing me with this lifesaving information. He grabbed me and stopped my groveling. With fervor in his eyes, he gazed at my tired and tear-stricken face. He told me that dangers lurk in that field. Otherworldly beings that I could not even begin to fathom. He told me to never go there unless it was absolutely necessary. I believed it was so.

I left him with empty promises of not setting foot in the field, but I knew what needed to be done for my family's survival. I waited for night to set and tentatively peeked out into the field. I saw nothing but bountiful resources. I made my way into the field of wheat, remembering how I walked so I could retrace my steps. I made it quite a distance into the field. Further than I should have, but I couldn't help myself. I was emboldened by the lack of primal beasts and my incessant hunger to feed my ravaged family. I looked up at the stars and thanked whatever god deemed me worthy of this beautiful forest of wheat. My heart caught in my chest. Looking upon the gorgeous starlit sky, a sense of dread washed over me. I knew I would not bring this nourishment to my family. I would never lay eyes upon them again. The silence was deafening. I saw an immense shadow soaring silently against the stars. Ever present and ever watching. It was the god of the night: The Barn Owl.