The Starving Time
Burrowing under the blankets he tried to avoid the cold that plucked impatiently at the edges of the bed role. A thread of cool air sifted through the side of the blanket and wrapped around his shoulders. Duncan rolled his eyes and finally threw the blanket off. Dawn had come though it could not be considered kind. It was never kind to be awakened from a slumber that had staved off the constant hunger pains. Hunger, a cruel master and one that rarely released his slaves.
Duncan’s long skeletal fingers stretched toward the peat moss stacked in the fireplace. The fire was barely warm enough to emit the same heat as a torch. Reaching for a few more pieces of peat the man shuddered. Another tendril of cold air had snaked its way toward his bones. A practiced patience settled in and the man kept on collecting the peat moss till he had enough dry chunks to burn on the fire and get the heat up. It took several minutes for the embers to begin glowing with a lively orange and then the smoke rose as the flames began to caress the new fuel. Duncan reached behind himself and grabbed the blanket. Wrapping it around his shoulder he then pulled his knees up to his chest and watched the fire grow.
The heat from the fire began to push against the man until he was forced to move away for fear of being burned. Savoring the heat for just a moment longer Duncan turned his back to the flame.
Tired eyes peered out from under a blanket nearby. “Dad?”
Turning toward the boy he forced himself to smile. “Aye…I’m here. Maybe today.” He knew before the boy said it. The boy was hungry and there was naught to do about it, but try again. They could go out to the river and wait for the fish to come up stream. It was not yet time. The Salmon would not be coming for many days, perhaps weeks.
Taking the blanket off, Duncan laid it over his son. “I will be back soon.” Swiftly moving to the opening of the sod house he glanced back one more time before stepping outside. What greeted him was the usual sight. The ground still bore the scars of the burning from late summer. The MacClain clan had all but destroyed the village and took any surviving villagers they could find to serve as slaves. Perhaps being left a free man was a far more cruel fate. It was the starving time and he had nothing to give to the boy. Instead they slowly wasted away and faces drew in tight against their skulls.
Duncan plodded up the hill. His lungs burned with the effort. Stopping part way up the hill he dropped his head between his knees and breathed in heavily. Determined not to fail he raised his head once more and continued toward the river.
The deep rumble of rocks being pushed down the river bed sounded and then the characteristic splash of the water beating relentlessly on the boulders too large to move. As the stream came into view Duncan dropped to his knees. A salmon jumped out of the water and pushed its way against the current before leaping out again. Knees wobbling the man got to his feet and made his way toward the edge of the river. He was too weak to withstand the rushing waters. Maybe if he could un-ravel part of his kilt he could use it as a net.
Attempts to throw the kilt into the water and capture a fish proved to be futile. Each time he felt the tug of a salmon the fish would wriggle free before he could pull it closer to himself. Forced to wade into the water Duncan waited patiently for the salmon to come to him.
The water rushed against his legs. Exposure to the cold started his bones aching, still he ignored it. This was nothing compared to the pain of hunger. Wading a bit deeper he cast the kilt out for another fish. Muscles in his arms strained as the current pulled on the kilt. Edging closer to the kilt his foot slipped. Under currents carried him till he found himself plastered to a boulder. Scrambling up side of the rock he shook almost violently against the cold.
Finally he had reached the breaking point. Duncan was ready to present himself and his son as slaves. Even if the salmon had come in time he could not capture one. Still clutching his kilt he began to untangle it when he felt the distinct wriggle of a large fish.
Momentarily his heart leapt and then he glanced about. Wrapping the kilt tighter around the fish he slipped cautiously into the river again and swam toward the shore. Once more he had to stop as he crawled out of the water to catch his breath. His lungs refused to accept oxygen as it seemed to be too much work for his already over tasked body. Duncan rose to his feet and began the return journey home.
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Huddled by the fire the boy didn’t pay heed to time. It had all stopped long ago. The starving time had no measure. Turning slightly he frowned. There had been a loud greeting in the distance that sounded very much like his father. It couldn’t be right.
Curling into a tighter ball he gazed into the flames until he heard another call from his father. This time it was very near. Slowly getting to his feet the boy wrapped the blankets around himself tighter and shuffled to the doorway. The sight of his father only half clad and cheering may have been enough to evoke a delirious sort of laughter with the exception that he had food. Nearly tripping, the boy hastened to meet his father.
Inside of the kilt that his father had slung over one shoulder there were nearly 5 fish. Hungrily gazing at the limp bodies the boy reached in and took one to begin gnawing on.
Duncan knew he should stop the boy from eating the fish raw. Yet it was a temptation he had himself fallen to. Perhaps he should have felt guilty for eating a whole fish before he returned, but he needed the food. The two of them struggled into the little sod house and laid the fish out to prepare those that remained after indulging their hunger pains with a gluttonous amount of the salmon.
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After the feast, father and son curled in their blankets again. The cruel nature of hunger ripped at their insides. Neither of them would awaken the next morning. Their bodies too weak to accept the food had instead rejected the nourishment offered in such copious amounts.
(Writing is never completely realistic. However, this seemed to be the only natural ending. Not to worry I don't kill all my characters but, neither am I afraid to.)
