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This topic contains 12 replies, has 8 voices, and was last updated by Statsmakten 9 years, 4 months ago.
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Diary of Jefrey Brouwer
With heavy steps, soaked from the rain, I stumbled out of the woods and into an opening. I still had some land to cover before reaching the sea, but I could already feel the coastal winds gathering force. The rain hit hard and blurred my vision, I had to cover my face with my arm. It wouldn’t matter much though, the night was pitch black anyway.
Suddenly I could feel the wind drop to a gentle breeze, and as I looked up I realized I had almost walked straight into the wall of a worn down house. All along I thought I had mapped a route with no risk entering rural areas, I panicked and cursed myself for not being more careful. The dead could be near. Their cold grip could be an arm’s length away from me, leaping out from the darkness.
Since I was clearly off course I couldn’t press on, so I decided to take refuge in the house. As I entered I immediately understood this was an old farm. I don’t know what it was, but something felt so familiar to my grandfathers old place. Was it the smell?
The wind was howling through the walls. It felt like the last sighs of an old man, and every creak the sound of his withering bones. This house hadn’t had a guest in a long time, I thought to myself. I lit my lantern and hung my shirt to dry.
As I was spending the night here I decided to pass the time by looking around. There wasn’t much though. Either the previous tenants packed up and left before the outbreak, or somebody looted this place good. Some books were still in the bookshelf so I took one out and blew the dust off. Hamlet. Well, I suppose the weather calls for a classic. I opened the book but as I did a photograph fell out, and all of a sudden Shakespeare’s masterpiece was nothing compared to the story this little piece of memory could give me. I picked it up. In the photo there were two girls jumping in the air, and in the background I could see a green house and a car parked up the driveway. Was it this house? The freshly mowed lawn triggered a strong nostalgia in me. I remembered better times, with mowed lawns and children running in the driveway. Then nostalgia turned to something else. The fate of the girls in the photo, what happened to them and this place? I made myself believe they had escaped before the outbreak, but in my heart I knew chances were slim. Two unmarked graves was a far more likely scenario, and yet I could image far worse.
That morning I made a decision. I decided to not follow the world into despair and decay. If the world is going to rot, I’m going to grow. I can’t make those girls back to life, but I can bring their home back. If travellers choose to lend a hand I will give honest pay for honest work, like in the old days. Just like they did. In hard times that family got by, they overcame. Until they succumbed.
I will farm this land. For them.
– Jefrey Brouwer
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