text: Grandma Charlotte showed me our chains when I was seven. She placed her hands on mine. “Close your eyes,” she whispered, “Look for them.” I saw them before I opened my eyes. I felt their weight pull me down. She dragged my fingers along the ghostly blue metal links that connected my wrist to hers. The links grew heavier as my hand got closer to hers. We walked through the cramped rooms following the phantom trail of our chains into the kitchen. Mom’s heavenly smile greeted us as we entered. She lifted me up in her arms and hummed a song for me. As she held me our chain gradually lost its weight. “What are the chains for?” I asked my grandmother from my mother's arms. “To tether us to our family.” I learned certain things about them over the years:(1) My grandmother carried broken chains. The weight of them slowed her movements.(2) My mother sometimes moved as if the chains carried no weight at all. The chain connecting us floated as if it was lighter than air. (3) My mother and I each carried the same fragmented chain. It was the only chain that burdened my mother, yet it contained no weight for me. --- She looks back at the burning houses. She sees the smoke rise above her town. Their faces scar her mind. As the fire becomes a distant glow, the weight of chains becomes more oppressive. Two chains that were taught now drag against the ground. The cries of the surrounding children drown out her own sobs. They aren't bonded by blood but skin. The children of a town built through hardship, destroyed by hatred. My chains sunk into the ground; their weight anchored me to the snow below my feet. I looked toward grandma. The wood creaked below her chair on the patio. Her chains borrowed through the wood and the ground below. She nods but doesn’t smile. Neither do I. Mother isn’t here to remind us to smile. My bad leg aches as I walk to the car, alone. The radio hums alive as the car starts. Warnings of a storm in the area separated the morning music. I flicked off the radio and drove in silence. The chains feel lighter when she's with Angela. Everytime she reads to her at night, she hears her father reading to her. Everytime she cooks with her, she smells the aromas of her mother's cooking. But for every cheerful moment there are a dozen somber ones. When she sends Angela off for her first date, she is reminded of her family that could never do the same for her. The family that was stolen from her. She sees the smoke in the sky. She feels the ash on her face. So her chains get heavier. ---- The tree fell like a comet. I was too slow to react. My vision was consumed by darkness. I awoke to the winter wind howling in my ear. Snow surrounded the vehicle. As I looked at my hands, my blood mixed with memories of hers. I cried out for help. My only responder, the wind. My leg burned the same as it did all those years ago. I looked to the empty seat next to me and saw her. I struggled to walk. Every step the chains got heavier. Every step I saw her cold face. My chains got so heavy they dug deep into the earth. I couldn't move. A human scarecrow in a winter wasteland. ---- She knew the words before the man spoke them. “There was an accident, y-your daughter...” he said. “She's gone.” She had felt the broken chain. She knew what it meant. The grief consumed her soul. Her girl was gone. Elijah came home later that day. His left leg twisted in an unnatural direction. She hadn't moved. She couldn't move. The chain's weight had caused it to dig deep into the ground. So she sat in her chair on the patio unable to speak to the boy with the limp. --- My body shivered. My eyes were forced closed. Every time they opened I saw her. The wind had stopped but the snow was still present. The whistling of birds slowly returned. Their whistling turned into my mother’s humming. I opened my eyes, the face was no longer empty but warm and smiling. I saw her picking me up, holding me close. I saw her smile when I learned to ride a bike. I saw her mouth the three words she would tell me every night. The chains rose from the ground. They floated like my mothers. My last unbroken chain directed me like a compass through the snow. Although my leg decelerated my journey, I made it safely to the house, my grandma asleep in her chair. I moved towards her and embraced her. And for a slight second her chains seemed to become weightless. ------ Thank you for reading! I am new to creative writing and this sub. I would appreciate any feedback on my first piece so I can improve.