I wonder how life treated older people from the past. Perhaps allowing nature to take its course would be better than this lingering half-life. My mind's still active, so I won't explore that avenue any further. At least I can entertain myself by writing. And I can luxuriate in my husband's company, knowing that very few partners are still together in their seventies.
A crackling cave fire sending out fingers of warmth sounds appealing. Just sit in shelter and allow others to find the food. I could pound grain and watch the children in their absence rather than be a burden to the others of my group. But, is this cozy picture one of reality?
According to the findings, the people were eaten raw during one sitting.
Did they run out of game to hunt? Where was their cozy fire? Maybe they were in a hurry. The most astounding thing is that modern man's moral code has changed. On the whole. Discounting murderers.
But, I'm happy with my life. I love what I do—love sharing my stories with you. During no other time on earth, has one isolated woman been able to contact so many other people.
And now, a story. Here's a short excerpt from Knights in Dark Leather, my co-written post-apocalyptic novel, which is the second in line from the Higher Ground Series shown on the right sidebar.
Cerridwen opened her eyes and felt stronger. Time to face her fear. The best way to handle her capture might be to try to fit in until a chance to leave arose. Smoke and steam from the cooking pot rose into the central shaft of the underground room. She swung her legs over the edge of the cot and walked towards the fire. "Can I help you with something, Tina?" she asked the old woman with speckled white skin.
"Not today, dear. It's all taken care of. I've made a nice pot of stew vegetables with some roots that Ginny brought back yesterday."
"Smells good." A rasping croak attracted Cerridwen's attention. She swung around. A black bird perched on a tree branch stuck into the ground. "Oh, who are you?"
The crow opened its beak. "Crawk."
Tina laughed. "That's our pet, Fortuna. She broke her wing a year ago. The men wanted to twist her neck and put her out of her misery. But I couldn't let them. She can't fly, but she keeps me company."
"Crawk!" Fortuna hopped from the perch.
"Oh," Tina said. "She doesn't do that very often."
Fortuna waddled towards the centre of the room. Cerridwen squatted and called, but the bird just gave her a quick sideways glance and moved on, glancing up every now and again.
"Anyway," Tina continued. "Ever since she recovered, we've prospered. The earth provides more nourishment for us, and animals are much easier to catch. Fortuna is our good luck."
One for sorrow. Cerridwen had heard a rhyme about black birds once, probably during one of her vivid dreams. "She's beautiful. And what a pity she can't fly anymore."