My response to Alissa Leonards ‘Finish that Thought” #2-24 🙂
Start With: The entire family had undoubtedly been hit with [the ugly stick], but they had been [blessed] in other ways.
Include: A pair of binoculars, a fur coat, a pair of sunglasses and a courgette. (my choice from a list)
The entire family had undoubtedly been hit with the ugly stick, but they had been blessed in other ways. Other ways which looked to be their bottomless pit bank account, and the ability to reproduce at the rate of rabbits. I blinked, taking in the sight of the newcomers before me. The father was tall, lanky and completely bald, his teeth were extremely crooked, something which braces could never had fixed. Whereas his wife was short and wearing incredibly high heals to compensate, her face was caked with make up which was completely the wrong shade thus emphasising the point of her nose and her wonky jaw line. A fur coat was clutched around her shoulders, adorned with one of her six offspring. Sunglasses hooked onto her shirt. The chubby toddler seemed to be hanging off the mass of caramel coloured fur, using it to drag himself along the pavement.
The eldest boy looked like his father, right down to the large ears which stood out at an odd angle on his thin face, the boy however had hair. An unbrushed dirty blonde which dulled his blue eyes and brought out the spattering of spots which dotted his pale face.
Then there were what looked like twin girls, with the same rounded faces and dark hair like their mothers. They’re lips were thin, and their lack of smiles did nothing for their sickly pale skin. They walked in step with each other, trying to mirror the strides of their big brother. Something he didn’t look to happy about.
The youngest, a baby I couldn’t tell the gender of from my vantage point on top of the roof, but I could see was wrapped in a blanket the colour of a rotting courgette, was snug in their fathers arms as the family walked towards the gates of the safety camp I now called home.
Frowning I wrenched the binoculars away from my eyes, I feel sorry for those kids. As refugees like the rest of us, they would have little to nothing left apart from what was on their backs. Like every new family to the camp they would have to be registered, but I like to see them first, think about how they would fit in, make predictions. I opened my book to a new page and made a few notes.
It looked like they missed home, we all did really, but after the string of natural disasters which wrecked havoc across the earth, home was gone. The crazy events of the past year had brought the human race to its knees. Those in power were trying to gain control over the panic which had spread, those in the public who’d kept their heads had built safe havens for who was left.
I shut my book with a sigh. A guilty knot built in my stomach. At one point I was just as broken as they are now. It’s wrong to laugh.
Interesting prompt this week, not too sure about the result but I do like it.
Thanks for reading,