A quick dream…

We were building out of stone, wood and the rough turf on the wind swept hills on the coast. An early start meant we should have a semblance of shelter before it got cold. We all had one eye on the clouds; rain would change everything, they were dark grey all day, the sun had never shown, but while they threatened much they thankfully failed to make good on that promise.

The roof was sturdy but low, even I at only 5’5” had to stoop at most times although the very front of the building was high enough to stand and stretch. The floor space was small and awkward, bending around the central stone column and it seemed unlikely that all six of us could fit. This truth was proved that night and two slept with legs out outside, letting in the cruel air and light rain that started around midnight. There was no room for a fire within either although I found it warm enough positioned one from the back wall.

Why were we here? The fishing village was not too far away because we talked of picking up provisions from someone we knew there to bring back. What has possessed us to move away from the villages and towns? Why do we six seek this harsh isolation – are we running away from or facing something?