text: I say, "Um... Well, there once was a castle that sat on top of the hill. It is still there, and you can still stand under it in awe. It took the riches of one queen over her entire lifetime to build it. The finest craftsmen, the greatest masons, and the most gifted artists of the kingdom all converged into a single place for decades.
  
  "Its walls were decorated on the outside with the white marble from the western mines. Its highest point almost could reach heaven. The drawbridge was made of the thickest cedar from the old Tyre kingdom to the South. That is just what the people outside could see. They were mostly stuck in city that surrounds the grand castle. Though, the city had running water and an underground sewer system that had never been seen before.
  
  "Inside the walls, oh, it is hard to describe. Silver ran through the seams of the stones. Tapestries detailing history and folklore drape from every wall. Those walls stretched higher than even the old churches. Their ceiling was curved, and I never learned of how they accomplished that. There were windows looking out that the visitor could use. They were very long and so thin. Each hall had doors which led to stables, great halls, servant's quarters, royal quarters... They even had a bakery. It was its own town.
  
  "My first memory was in the halls. I was lost and crying. I felt trapped, for nobody was around me. It was only me. I've been told that a guard brought me back, but it was those walls that I remember. When I ran my hand across their magnificence, they felt cool. I would secretly lean against the walls during the summer. When I would pull my body off the walls, there was a small patch of sweat left behind.
  
  "The people were happy living under the rule of the queen. There were no wars, for there was peace with the surrounding lands. The navy was beyond compare that was docked in the port. In the morning, I stood in awe gazing at the sun as it rose through the sails.
  
  "The queen had two children. One was a boy, and the other was a girl. The girl stayed inside most of the hours, but the boy played outside. They were as loved as the queen, but the boy was adored by all. He took the name Daivat the Magnificent. He grew up in the ways of the warrior and the diplomat. His fame grew powerful as his body matured.
  
  "One fateful year, the queen became ill. She laid in bed for days with her daughter attending her every need. She died on a moonless night with her children around her. The queen ceased to be, but a King was thus born.
  
  "Everything was fine."
  
  "Stop," demands Morty, "Your story sucks."
  
  Will he come after me? No, he turns back to the fire. I am fine. My heart is racing. My body is sweating. I'd rather be bored now.
  
  "Damn," hisses Huxley, "Did you hear that?"
  
  "What?" asks Morty. Huxley kicks Jacob. He moans.
  
  "They're here," whispers Huxley. "They must've followed the smoke trail like we did."
  
  Jacob asks, "The crazies?" Huxly nods. "Should we put out the fire?"
  
  "It won't matter," laments Morty.
  
  I look at my parents as the men continue talking. My mother shrugs her shoulders. What if there are crazies outside? I could maybe untie my parents without them noticing me. What if there aren't any of them out there? If I untied my parents, then the men could be scared enough to shoot us.
  
  I ignore the men's chatter and strain for any sound from outside. The popping of the fire and their words drown all other sounds. If there are crazies, then I would have no idea. They go for door, or at least the smarter ones do. Is the door even locked? No, it isn't. These intruders are dump beyond redemption. Should I lock the door, or should I free my parents? If I do nothing, then they'll shoot us. They aren't stable enough. The men are starving and suffering from frostbite. They are like crazies with a partial mind.
  
  > lock the Door
  I rush to the door.
  
  "Stop!" yells Morty. I do not pay heed. I pick up the wood and lay it in the two slots. The door is locked.
  
  I am yanked back. "Get away from there," Jacob hisses. I am pushed down. The other two men tip over my parents, and they lie on the ground as well. I can see Jacob's sweat on his brow. He sees me staring at him. He puts his finger to his lips.
  
  The floor outside creaks. Huxley covers my brother's mouth. The floor again creaks only to be followed by another. A voice rumbles from the other side of the wall. It's harsh and without life. Another voice responds with a grunt. The front door is pushed. The lock does not budge. We will be fine. We will be. The lock will hold. It will.
  
  Morty unties my father. My father unties my mother. The door will hold.
  
  I jump. The wall has been slapped. It is slapped again. The voices become louder. The voices gain in number. I tremble.
  
  The window is bare of all but glass and a curtain. I've never heard of glass being broke. Have the crazies killed all who have seen it?
  
  I close my eyes. I close them tight enough to hurt my face.
  
  Banging, creaking, shrieking, yelling, pushing, roaring, tapping, moaning, breathing. It's all so much. I don't want to be here. I want to run. I have to. No, I mustn't. I'm caged, trapped. There's no way out. No quarter is spared to me, for they rape, kill, and cannibalize.
  
  The door is pushed again. I hear a crack from the wood. There's no gust of wind, so the door must still be closed. When will light come up the horizon? When will light drive away my peril?
  
  I close my eyes tighter. I focus on my breathing. I inhale and exhale in my lifelong ritual. In and out. It's simple. I do it without thinking most of the time, but now is not the case.
  
  Is that what I hear? It's nothing. I open my eyes. Jacob is smiling. I pray for the sound of footsteps leaving in the snow, but I hear none. No, I hear nothing. Is there still something?
  
  > In the Morning
  I yawn. The fire is out. The three intruders are standing and moving. It was their footsteps that woke me. Light peeks through the curtains. I stand.
  
  "They're gone," my father says. I nod. There's no joy in my heart, but there is relief.
  
  "Here's this," mumbles Morty. He hands my father the two guns. My father takes the guns from his hands and sets them on the ground.
  
  They each say "Goodbye." None of us shake their hands. I hold my hand up in a motionless wave. They leave our home one by one. Through the door, I see the entire ground, and it's trampled by footprints as far as my eye can see. Red snow is at the edge of the forest. The door closes.
  
  My mother moves into the kitchen carrying the empty pot of soup. My father sits in a chair. My brother is on his lap with his face buried in my father's chest.
  
  "Will they be gone forever?" I ask.
  
  "The men, yes," my father replies, "I cannot say the same for the crazies. The tracks are too many for one or even a dozen. Claire, we're only alive because they never realized we were inside. If they were in any way smart, we'd be dead or worse."
  
  "Will we leave for safer places?"
  
  "To where?"
  
  "Will I leave?"
  
  "To whom?"
  
  "Am I going to die soon, Father?"
  
  "I don't think so."
  
  "What are we going to do?"
  
  "We'll head to Lune. There's more people, good people."
  
  "What does Mother think?"
  
  "She agrees."
  
  I walk to the curtains and pull them open. The white snow makes my eyes squint. The scars of evil are left behind in the once virgin winter. I cross my arms, for I am cold. I don't want the world to be this way. I want it to be nicer, but it isn't nice. No, instead it is foul and rotten. I wish there are maggots to consume the rot.
  
  I close the curtains. I climb up my ladder. I take off my nightgown and put on some clothes for today. I come down and head into the kitchen. I take a bucket, a sponge, and some of my mother's water. I kneel where Morty dropped his soup. I clean his mess.