Post thy writing-eth

My breath escaped from my chapped lips in a cloud of warm air. I could see it, due to the contrast with the freezing cold wind that whipped at my bare skin. That was the worst part for the poor people like me. We had to deal with not having enough clothing or fabrics to insulate our bodies. We had nothing to keep us warm during the winter months. Most say that you get use to it, but only the poor know that we still feel the chills in our bones, no matter how old you are. It’s quite a frightening thought when you think about it, the fact that you might die from the freezing cold temperatures. Such a horrible way to die, and yet, it’s one of the most common here. Still, nothing is done about it. Nobody who can do anything actually cares. If anything, they encourage the deaths of the poorer citizens. That way we don’t over-populate.
That’s always been the problem. The overpopulation. There are only enough resources for a certain number of people. The people that matter obviously get enough food, water, shelter and clothing to last them their lifetime. Then there are the people like me. The ones who can’t go a day without hearing a grumble from their empty stomachs. The ones who are out working, every hour of the day. It’s the only way to get money, but it’s never enough. And of course, you need money to get supplies.
They try to keep control of the population. They leave us to fend for ourselves against the constant up and down of the temperatures, or the wild animals that patrol our borders. They say it’s for the best, but it’s only for their enjoyment. They just want to have a better life than somebody. All of the rich people. They all want to just feel better about themselves. And who wouldn’t feel bad if everything they did somehow harmed somebody else? The worst thing is that all the Rich seem to enjoy watching us suffer, watching us squirm. They like to watch as one by one we slowly disappear off this planet that we’ve grown to call home. That I’ve grown to call home.
So, it’s best to just keep quiet, and do as you’re told. The cold air nips at my skin again, making me shift from my prior position. It’s never a smart move to make any movements during hunts. You might scare the animals away. It’s always good to get as many animals as possible, to avoid getting whipped for under-producing. And maybe I might be able to sneak some home with me. If I’m careful enough that is. There are cameras that patrol the border between the residential area and the forest. It’s too dangerous to leave it unguarded. Somebody like me would risk their life daily, and venture into the cold forest to get food, and not to satisfy the needs of the Rich. So, they watch our every move, and make sure that all the pieces of meat I return are handed in at the Square.
A sudden movement to the right of my eye makes me perk up. I’ve always been known to have great senses. My friends tell me that I must be a machine that the Rich people built, to somehow sabotage the honest work we do. It would be a surprise if somebody was able to sneak up on me. My ears would pick up on the tread of the person before they entered within a meter of me. It works well when I’m given hunting hours. I usually bring back extras, which nets me extra money. My fingers pull back the trigger to the hunting rifle that the border guards issued me. It’s a simple Winchester Model 1894. It does the job though. It kills anything its bullets enter. Slowly, my finger presses against the trigger, squeezing it tightly. After all, they tell you not to pull the trigger, but to squeeze it. I’ve never been able to understand that. I guess it’s just another Rich that thought he made so much sense.
The bullet escapes from the barrel in a flash, and vibrations flow down my extended arms. The feeling is exhilarating. Adrenaline pours through my veins, pushing me on. This is the feeling you get in the heat of battle. It must be. It compels you to move forward, and to keep fighting. Although, the vibrations are nothing compared to the feeling that encompasses your body as the bullet plants itself in the body of your target. It takes all my new found strength to stay rooted on the spot, and to not jump up and let out a cry of triumph. There are more animals around, and I’d be sure to get a bullet in my head if I scared them away. I wouldn’t risk it anyways. If there are more animals that I can shoot, why would I scare them, and give up the small bit of money that might help my siblings go a night without bothersome hunger.
Jake, my younger brother, tries to work. I always ask him not to. The things we do are dangerous, filled with some sort of constant risk. Whether it’s working with weapons, or digging in the mine lands, there is something that can kill us in everything we do. I wouldn’t be able to handle the death of my brother, so I beg and beg. However, it’s the job of a twelve year old to not listen to the rules. So he works anyways, which always worries Cecilia, his twin. She acts like such a motherly figure in the presence of our other siblings. Only Jake and I know the real her. The strong, quick-thinking, stern Cecilia is not real. That’s the character she portrays, out of fear of how the world would effect the true Cecilia.
Then there’s Lelith and Jane, the youngest girls. They can’t work very much at their age of five, but they are extra stomachs to feed, which always makes things worse. Younger children need more food to live past the first ten years or so. It’s haunting to think that they could die because I can’t provide enough. Next in line is Toby. He’s the youngest boy in our family. He just turned seven, and is already looking like he’ll be a great worker. Hopefully we can escape poverty by the time he gets that old. Then he won’t have to risk his life like I have to. Four years before Jake and Cecilia were born, I was. It seems it was my destiny, to be the eldest. Nobody else would’ve been able to at least satisfy the demands to live.
Another movement brings my mind back to reality. The bullet sound rings in my ears and my eyes record the location of the now dead hare. That’s two now. I will need one more to reach my quota. The hares often stick around the large grass patch to the south of the residential entrance. Large strings of grass shoot up from the ground, providing plenty of food for those little bodies, and plenty of camouflage for me. Hares are the easiest to catch in our forest. They are the most abundant for sure, but they are also the dumbest. Wolves, wild dogs, turkeys, mountain lions, deer and bears also roam the area, but they would probably be able to predict my movements, and only get me a horrible wound to deal with. That means using my money on medical supplies, and not food. That means going to bed with an empty stomach.