Creative Writing: Home

807 Words4 Pages
Oz Porter stared down the thickly wooded slope, his gaze fixed on the endless panorama of green. Trees, swaying in the slight breeze. The place had a definite odor, the sweet freshness of pine. He breathed it all in, savoring the familiar tang, the underlying musty aroma of undergrowth and leaf mold. Slowly disintegrating into mulch that would carpet the forest floor and nurture the new growth. He called this place home. It wasn’t home. Home was the small town of Copperville, but they’d been forced to flee. Lately he’d begun to see things differently. Making plans to go home. He’d lived at this high altitude for almost ten months with his wife Eleanor, and a community of people who’d escaped the town. They fled because everything had gone.…show more content…
Behind the façade, they were simply thieves and looters. Recruiting legions of deputies to act as their shock troops, they raped and pillaged their way across the beleaguered towns and villages. Some fought back. Outnumbered and outgunned, they died in a hail of bullets. Others had prepared, like Oz Porter and his wife Eleanor. Their cabin, close to the summit of the Appalachians, became the anchor of a new colony. A temporary home to those people prepared to learn the art of survival, until order was restored and they could go home. He surveyed the cluster of structures and shelters that surrounded his timber cabin. During their time on the mountain, everything had changed, and yet nothing had changed. The tired, worn and frightened residents of Copperville had worked hard to build new homes. They’d survived and recovered much of their lost pride. They still had a civic leader, Mayor Chandler, the man they’d voted for back in Copperville. Yet with winter approaching, every man, woman and child knew things would be…show more content…
Yet up here they had little to fall back on. No stores of dried food, and no kerosene for heat and cooking. Lighting a wood fire would mean smoke, and smoke would alert the enemy to their presence. An enemy who wanted them dead, who wanted to steal everything they owned. An enemy called Omega. He walked down the path and Eleanor met him. She’d changed in some ways, like her pregnancy, seven months gone, and the bulge showed large beneath her insulated coat. Yet she was still the pretty, gamin girl he’d fallen for. Behind her vivid green eyes lay a world of wisdom. Something they had in common, not the wisdom, but green eyes. With her flawless skin and a body in perfect proportions, he constantly wondered what she’d seen in him. She smiled, but with food running low and the demands of her pregnancy, she looked exhausted. “Admiring the view?” “I was admiring you, and thinking about the baby. Thinking about going back. The birth could be hard up here.” She frowned at her husband, the tough former Marine sniper. Medium height, rangy and muscular, with a handsome face bearing the scars of battle. When Oz was around, she felt safe. “What about
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