-The Red-Eyed Knife- Chpt 1

An ear-piercing scream filled her room, filling her head and making her dizzy. Not long after, she heard a loud knocking on the door. Soon, the weak frame cracked, and the door fell with a loud thud. In the door way stood a tall muscular figure, silhouetted in the gloomy lighting. The girl was too scared to speak; a huge lump was stuck in her throat. She felt glued to the bed, cold sweat dribbled down her forehead and her heart pounded as fast as a horse gallops.
“It’s okay sweetie” The figure cooed softly, rushing over to his daughter. “Get some sleep, okay?” his voiced sounded raspy and pained. The girl just nodded, still paralyzed with shock. The man left, quietly and gently lifting the door up and fitting it back into place, plunging the room into darkness once more. The girl shivered; not with cold, but with fear. She wiped sweat from her brow and curled up around an itchy woven blanket. She knew that scream too well. It was her mothers.
She was only eleven, stuck in the middle of the one of the world’s worst wars. Everything was always bloody and cold. She knew her little farmland in Nebraska wasn't the only place in this state, but she felt it was one the hardest places to be in. Just then, from the open window behind her, came a loud booming, the sound of the shed door. But, burglars were the last thing on her mind right now.
What would she ever do without mother? Father’s always out hunting, or fighting while she and mother would cook or gather berries. The sound of gun shots and wailing startled her, and broke her connection to her memories. She decided to get some sleep, and soon was in a deep, disturbed sleep.
A harsh wind woke her from her nightmare-ish dreams. Part of her expected to her a gentle voice calling her name for breakfast, but then she remembered.
She realized now, how real her mother’s death was, and she longed to hear her voice again. She felt tears coming to her eyes as the scream looped in her mind, but her father’s words over ridden it, ‘In a time so dark, one must always look for a light’.
“Caroline!” Her father’s gruff voice called.
“Coming!” She yelled back, not changing, since she was already fully dressed, in a ragged sweater, and heavy woolen pants. She ran down the crooked stairs, and stopped to catch her breath at the bottom. But suddenly, the energy from her drained, and her heart felt heavy as stone. Mother was gone, she’d never come back. Ever. She heaved a painful sigh, and repeated her father’s words over and over, ‘In a time so dark, one must always look for a light’. She shuffled dully to the kitchen.
There was no scent of a lovely breakfast, or a wonderfully kind face, beaming happily at her. The kitchen seemed darker and desolate. A cold wind, heavy with the scent of cigarettes blew in from the back door, which was ajar. Her father was sitting on a wooden chair, just outside the house. In his mouth, like most days, was a cigarette. His eyes had a cold look to them, and his hair was untidy, strands of it stuck out everywhere.
Due to the bitter autumn weather, he wore a heavy jacket. It was pale green, and he often went hunting in it, so it was stained with animal blood.
“Hello father,” she said, peeking outside,
“Oh yes, hello darling” he looked up from the uneven, stony ground of the ‘patio’.
“Have you eaten?” she asked politely,
“Yes,” he said abruptly, avoiding his daughter’s grief stricken gaze, “I’m afraid we only have enough food for a single meal, so I thought I could teach you how to hunt, with the knife I gave you last year.” He tried to sound cheerful, but Caroline knew very well she wouldn't be using it for hunting only.
“Okay, thanks dad!” she chirped, it pained her to see her father so down; after all he had lost more than she.