This post is part of a series where I write fiction. This is an exercise for myself. To lose the fear of writing and to give life to the fictional characters on my head. Please don’t be too harsh on the comment section, I’m not a novelist. I’m simply challenging myself.
Growing up, I didn’t realise how privileged we were. I was lucky enough to have a brother and a sister, a mom and a dad, a grandpa and a grandma, all living together under the same roof. We had our own little house in a suburb, with the tiniest garden, but a garden, nevertheless. My grandma, dad and mom had a job while my grandpa took care of us. Mom’s job as a weather engineer in the mountains, she was away most of time. Dad worked at an office desk job in the council. Grandma had her own apothecary and worked as a family doctor (which meant that she didn’t earn any penny, not that she wanted anyway). Grandpa was a retired soldier. He didn’t talk much about war, well, he didn’t talk much about his war. However, he studied historical battles and talked continuously about them.
I loved hearing he talk about strategists, inventions and the importance of engineering in the battlefield. About how silly mistakes from generals meant losing the battle. About ingenious and simple strategies that lead to victory. One summer afternoon, we were listening to him while enjoying the little hours of sun we had, when we heard worried voices coming from the apothecary. My brother, Paul, and I run inside, only to discover my grandma on the floor and his assistant reanimating her. She was covered in ashes, like the ones we saw every afternoon on the sky.
– “Margot, get me some water. Jacob, fetch a towel to clean your grandmother.”- Shouted, Amy, my grandma’s assistant as she saw us-. “Quick! She is still breathing. She just needs some fresh air and water”.
After a while her breathing became less harsh, although we could still hear a murmur coming from her lungs. She looked terribly shocked. Her hands were shaking continuously. Amy started crying.
My grandpa broke the silence:
-What have you done this time? You are going to get all of us killed.
The Last Snowy winter was first published at Olisunsolicitedadvice.blog