#wooden_frame

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[ecotone99]

Wooden Frames

Like usual, father and I pass through a clearing to get to our camp after our daily hunt.

Today however, I saw a man setting up wooden frames in the clearing.

Father ushered me home and away from the man. Father said he was crazy.

A few months go by, we are now used to the man in the clearing, setting up wooden planks and frames, helped by his family.

Years go by, the man still builds. Slowly, yet surely, as if awaiting for something.

Today was a sad day, I sold off the last of my daughters for some fresh meat. The killings never stopped, it only gets worse. Every night, screams and wails are heard. Our women raped and our children butchered, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Like usual, I pass through the clearing. The man is still there, building away. It is starting to resemble a very large building.

At night, the beasts came.

The camp was at a frenzy. We haven't had food in years. Bloodthirsty mobs scratched and clawed to get a taste of just a little meat. Many died that night, both man and beast.

The next morning, the beasts disappeared. They must've went somewhere, we concluded. The killings and wailings never disappeared, however.

That afternoon, I went to the clearing. The man appeared to have finished building. As I looked on, a crowd of people seemed to have taken interest in him. They were shouting and pelting rocks at him.

The mob grew both in size and noise. The man appeared calm, looking up to the sky.

A roar caught my attention. And then, another. The skies darkened. Thick clouds gathered above. And then, it began to rain.

Trickles of water at first.

It kept raining. The people cheered. It kept raining.

The heavens were opened.

The water rose. Soon, the cheering turned into screaming. The lands turned into mud. People were starting to drown. The screaming turned into desperate cries. The waters drowned that too.

As I take my final gulp of air I realized that it was never a building that the man built. It was a boat.

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