All the vibrating stirred up great clouds of dust making it hard to see the project. Another mouthful of dust. When the construction around the chimney was finished, we could all take a break. We’d been under considerable strain.
We managed to escape the butchery that took so many of our friends and family. Now, we were sweating to make a new space. A place of peace and protection. Until it was finished, we kept looking behind, checking to make sure we were safe for that moment.
Each handled the situation differently. I had insomnia; better than the nightmares. Many of the lads were cutting it fine between playing vitiate and being consumed by it. There was talk of rebellion; to get rid of the old order which meant me. Talk of revenge and retribution.
When our sanctuary was done; when we settled back into our old routines, it would be better. With time, the images in our minds would grown fainter. The pain of remembering will soften. But we will not forget.
A scream “wasps, there are wasps in the attic.”
“My dear lady, we are not wasps, we are killer bees.”