All Chapters of Home in a world filled with war. : Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

We sit beside Chris for over two hours, not too sure what to do with ourselves.Chris suddenly stirs, his fingers twitching as he groans out, we take his hand and try to talk to him, “Chris!? Chris are you ok? How do you feel?” We ask on repeat, he mumbles out a slurred sentence,”like shit” we both laugh thankful that he is ok and at least talking, “it’s ok man, just get some rest, you’ll be here a while” Bruce reassures him patting him on the arm. As evening falls, the amount of soldiers coming in decreases, the nurses are less hurried and manage to get a moments peace. Lisa comes over, Bruce straightening himself out trying to make himself look somewhat presentable even though he was covered in dirt and blood. “How is he?” She’s asks, coming beside him and checking his pulse, “I think he’s fine, he spoke a few words earlier” Bruce tells her, “that’s good. He will need to stay with us for a bit, then in a couple days he will probably be discharged over to the rehabilitation unit

We trudge forward, each step becoming more laborious as the snow piled up around our boots. The sound of crunching beneath us felt muffled almost ghostly, as if the world was trying to hush our presence. As we approach the trees I can feel the wind ease slightly, the branches offering some refuge from the relentless storm. “Do you think we’ll find anything?” Bruce asks, shivering slightly as we ducked beneath the boughs. “I hope so” I reply, my eyes scanning the area, “we can’t stay out in this for long.” Just then I spotted a narrow opening in the underbrush, a small alcove that looked promising. “Over here!” I call out, leading us to the spot. It wasn’t perfect but it would provide some respite from the falling snow. We squeezed into the space, our backs against the cool earth, and watched as the storm raged outside. The snow falling heavier, I could feel the weight of exhaustion settling over us, the howl of the wind becoming a distant roar, we huddle sharing warmth, minds

Once all packed and ready we say our thank you’s and goodbyes to the old man, turning to face the blanket of snow once again, the chill of the morning air hitting us like a wave. The old man stood at the door, “are you sure you want to leave? The snow will only get worse these next few days” he said, his voice steady yet warm. “We have to keep moving” I replied, gratitude filling my voice, “thank you for everything, we won’t forget you kindness” with a final wave to the old man, we set off into the snowy wilderness, the sound of crunching snow beneath our boots echoing in the stillness. We walk for hours, the landscape becoming increasingly treacherous as the snow piled up around us. Eventually we reach the bank of a river, the surface partially frozen but with fast moving currents lurking beneath the ice. I felt a knot from in my stomach. “This is it, we need to cross.”Scanning the area, we spotted a fallen tree that stretched across the river like a makeshift bridge. “Think w

After the drawings of Marcel, she looked to be in a car with mountains surrounding… the next pages looked familiar, a town built in the valleys, beautiful architecture, I felt a spark of inspiration as I looked through her drawings of others art works and sculptors, almost like a hobby or something I enjoyed doing resurfacing. I feel like I’d seen some of these pages before but couldn’t quite pin point when or where.I flicker through more pages, she write’s on each page, describing what she’s drawn, where she is and where she’s going to in a poetic like manor.She sketches parts of Rome, Rome I remember but not with her, I remember visiting when I was younger with my mother and faintly remembering being with Marcel at one point there.Then I saw a drawing that took the breath out of me, she’d drawn me, I was sculpting something, a woman figure out of stone, she’d drawn my muscular form, the shine on my skin indicating sweat. As I looked at the image I didn’t rember exactly what I wa

I make my way through the quiet town, the sky now dark, peoples lights switched on in their homes, releasing a soft warm glow. As I get to the edge of the buildings, the path carry’s on down the hill, fields stretch at either side, my vision becomes less visible from lack of lighting, but with just enough glow from the moon, I can make my way towards the pond where I used to visit often with Carlo. I sit on the bare ground, running my fingers through the fresh new grass, a little moist from the evening air. The thought of warmer weather coming reminding me of all the moments spent with him. The heaviness of solitude around me like a dense cloak. Vibrant blooms of spring surrounding me, even in the darkness, their colours burst with life, their beauty only deepening the emptiness I feel inside. The world was waking up yet I remained trapped in the stillness of grief, haunted by memories of him, my lover, my anchor.I watch the water ripple gently, reflecting the sparkling stars ab