mdillon does not really qualify for the high honor of dimwit, as it has not put enough energy into creating a dimwit persona. Once again it was Rasumus certfied me that I became an official dimwit, and Rasmus also made mdillon into a dimwit. meta
My day of rest went fine. I just played my games with the devil, in the light of day, and watched a movie that should have been a play.
Another dawn broke across the plain in the high mountain desert. Light streamed in the slats in the side of the building. It was spring, most of the snow had melted and it was time for father to make us earn our keep. We marched into the fields and begun clearing the fields of rocks. The stone were still frosty and the cold bit into our hands. We would grab the pieces of ice left over from the winter and stick them in our mouth for water, and spit out the sand and dirt. When noon came tired and sore we walk back to house and mother would fix us our daily meal. Food was good, it breathed strenth back into us and my brothers eyes appeared to come alive. Mother said it was important to eat every day or we would be too weak to work. Brother pursed his lips and nodded his head. Father hung his head and shook it back and forth.
We returned to the fields and and light grey dirt stuck to our bare feet, and caked on to our pants. All of the evenings frost had melted and it was now mudd. We all walked in silence, I staired out at the mountain peaks in the distance and wondered, why they had come here? Why anyone thought this was the land of milk and honey? This was the land of starvation, bleak fields, and bleaker hopes. If there was not enough unrotted seed left in the store, we would not live past summer. Father had said this to mother late at night, so it was true.
Every row of grain, every vegtable had to provide, otherwise our number would shrink once again, and it would be even harder to provide another harvest. It was a couple years ago,when the food had given out. We used to only get to eat every other day, we would sit on the floor and sleep and try to preserve every bit of energy we had. We prayed to God and lay down. We burned the tumble weed for warmth, and we gnawed on the wood for satisfaction.
At one point mother said it was too much. Her eyes had that wild desperate look in them. My big sister and I were sitting curled next to each other by the fire trying to stay warm, trying not to shiver as that made the hurt even worse. Mother came out of the kitchen, grabbed my sister by the shoulder, placed a pan under her head and chopped it off in one swift blow. She scraped the edge of the knife onto the pan to catch all the blood, and proceded to clean my sisters body carefull not to lose a single drop of the sweet blood.
Mom cured the body and fed us for the rest of winter. I got sick that first day on the blood pudding, it was too rich for my stomach, but it tasted so good. And the jerky'd strips of flesh kept us going for months to come. Now the question is who is next. I know we are running low on food again, I don't think we can make it till the harvest, and I am hungery for some meat again.