Another harsh night of falling rain has hit the outskirts of lone Kurterve. For three consecutive days the grey clouds have hovered over the haughty city, drowning the dirt and scaring both adults and children awake with its loud flashes of thunder.
Ground has long been turned to mud and the slums have long been exhausted of their energy to resist the pelting rain. Cowaring under their makeshift roofs and hudderling together like fish in a drying pond, wishing to survive another day, fighting and squirming even when there's no escape from their harsh lifestyle: since survival is all they have.
Many have already succumbed to the damning conditions, felled to the pull of hunger, driving them out their homes wishing to find even an ounce of food in their time of sever scarceness. Most killed by the unfortunate circumstances of their bodily conditions, weak and fragile. Prone to illness and extremely susceptible to the harsh weather, especially when exposed and undercovered. Which they're forced to be when living in the kurterve slums.
Breakage and damage were unavoidable against the wind and rain. Collapsing buildings were to be expected then they're built crudely by the less educated. With weak foundations and even weaker structure. A near miracle for some to have survived for how long they have.
Relentless in its howling march, blowing large chuncks of bits and pieces all over. Crashing them against the people's homes one after another, causing a truely harrowing sight to those who wish to look out their wooden sheds. Flying pieces of splinted wood, pieces of metal scrap ripped though the air. Cutting and tearing everything in its path, engraving shallow slashes on tree truncks and hut walls. Rags of cloth fluttering violently in the galling wind, wooden toys thrown across the dirt while chairs were mercilessly dragged along.
Not even corpses were spared in the storms fury, battered and brutalised as they're jerked along the mud by blown objects, striking the dead bodies until its littered with bruises and cuts and dripping with viscose blood. Beaten enough that bone were exposed, possibly even chipped, and large lacerations would be planted upon their lifeless flesh. Drawing a trail of wet blood on the mud as it's pushed along by the wind.
Some were lucky enough to have died in thier own homes. Their bodies at least somewhat protected by the shabby barrier of wood and scraps of metal. Although a few were already rotting and decomposing since they've died before witnessing the storm.
Living in the slums was no easy task. Living day in and day out with the same repetive motion of living, coupled with the growling of stomachs. Made no easy challenge but most held on, alot of them held on. Maybe due to the nature of being a human to hold on and endure, to tolerate the pain and cling onto the slippery string of life. Or the hopefulness of escaping into a better life, into a better world of filled stomachs and brighter sky's, with clean skin and softer cloths. No matter the reason, most moved forward to meet the future with their wants.
But pass the poverty stricken edges of Kurterve and closer to the centre lay the more comfortable and wealthy and in one particularly building, larger than the rest, a small but modest mansion surrounded by a well kept garden for all sides sat. Kept safe from the people by a short brick wall with connected steel poles that extended upwards, ending in small leaf-shaped spikes which made a good deterrent to uninvited guests. Well prepared to block out invaders of the property.
But unfortunately unprepared to block out the harsh doings of nature. Wind sweeped pass the fence and throughout the garden, Sadly reducing the it's beauty with each passing day. Petals ripped from their stems as they shake in the wind sending out an array of colours into the sky as they're carried by the wind. Branches swayed all around, some swaying too vigorously and sadly snapping off joining others on the grass. leaving the surrounding garden much less than well.
Air rushed everywhere, grating against the brick walls and dragging along the tiled roof. Making it difficult to open doors outwards which someone was experiencing for another time in the lifetime of the storm. On the side of the house, left to the front of the mansion's double doors with pretentious engravings and hidden away by a extension of the house, a simple flat wooden door was being pushed outwards.
At least nudging outwards. Reaching a good few centermeters out before being thrown back and slamming against the door frame once again. Wind seeped through with each opening crack, rustling the stored utensils in pots and banging the kitchen cabinets doors one after the other.
With another attempt with a little more effort, the door was successful pushed halfway and with the help of the howling wind. It was flung wide open and ended with a loud clash between the steel handle and the extended brick wall to the side. The noise drowned out by vicious winds and pelting rain.
Rain wetting the inside floor instantly.
Stepping out, into and under hectic fire the door was closed behind. Once again causing a loud slam as it was pushed by the wind. Now on the small verandah, a glowing lamp dangled on the edge of the overhang.
Swinging wildly in the air. Seemingly broken as it's protective glass shielding has mostly disappeared. Glass shards lay beside the wall and with the lamps battered exterior it most likely shattered away when the lamp was violently thrown against the wall.
Carefully making way for the flying lamp and moving through the stone path, arriving at an outbuilding and quickly entering into its serenity. Escaping the rain and into safety. Reaching the resting quarters of the maids.
After getting heated by the fireplace, prepared for sleep. Climbing onto the top of one of the 2 bunk beds. Leaving one more space to be filled at the bottom of the other bunk bed.
In a office on the secondary story of the main building. Wind howling with the occasional whip of thunder. Sat a chubby man, small doses of white streaked across his dark blond hair. Looking over documents and writing letters preparing to deal with the after effects when the storm ends. Letters meant for his multiple shops, letters to acquaintances and letters to labourers to repair his damaged home.
In that same room, cleaning and swooping is the last maid to fall asleep tonight. Dusting one last shelf and sweeping the dust away will be her last task tonight.
Finishing his letter and lazily placing it inside a cheap envelope from a drawer. Sealed it with wax and stamped it with the simple initials of 'LP'.
Unable to help himself, he went to take a unsuspecting look at the face of one of his four maids. Turning his head and laying his eyes upon her, always able to strike his fancy. But as he heavily traced his way down her body reaching to her stomach, his eyes slightly squinted and a tiny grimace appeared on his face.
Finishing her last task, packing up her duster, broom and dustpan, holding them in one hand, she turned the bronze knob and quickly exited the room. Walking down the carpeted hallway and down the bending stairs, placed the items back into the storage room and made her way pass the kitchen.
Arriving at a door out, fighting against the rushing air as she tried to open it. Wind swooped pass, making her long skirt flutter intensely as it caressed her body with chilly swipes of speeding draft. Droplets splattered on her flat pumps and began to drench her exposed black socks.
Hand and shoulder against the door, pushing hard against the wind, fighting it with her experienced might. For three sequential days she has battled with the restless wind and she will achieve victory over it this time as well.
With much effort gradually opening the door before it was caught by the bellowing winds and flung wide open, causing a loud bang and pulling her stumbling out. Catching her off guard and nearly causing her to slip on the slippery floorboards.
In the midst of a tumultuous gale and rain which violently broke upon contact, her ears were constantly filled to the brim with loud noises which were more perceived then when she was inside. Raising her fear but she pushed on like always.
Now trying to close the door, proving to be more difficult than opening it. She successfully did so, but not before it pulled her in and nearly bumping her head upon it. Pushing off and turning around, then startled by the swinging lamp that was flying towards her she jerked back in response and hit her head against the wooden door in the process.
Letting out a exclamation of pain and rubbing the back of her head. Cautiously ducking under the wild lamp which continued to emit a soft orange light from its fluorescent gem. Moved onto the stone path, sheltering her face from the cold and wet. Lightly jogging to the protection of the resting quarters, leaning lower to keep her balance as the winds run pass. Throwing her shoulder-length hair amok in the air.
Becoming triumphant after another fierce battle against a door with it currently behind her, now surrounded by the warm comfort of dry walls she left out a quiet but relieving sign. Water dripping from her cloths and hair, she walked to the burning flame to the left of her. Standing close, outstretching her hand down towards the bright flame shaking off the residue rain water, spreading her cold fingers in its warming blaze.
Once warmed up and satisfied, she prepared for bed. Changing out of her white apron and black dress into simple pajamas of grey course wool. Placing the taken off cloths into her own small wardrobe.
Walking to the bathroom, brushing her teeth and cleaning her face she went to her bed. Going under the covers of the last bed at the bottom of the bunk bed. Curling up slightly into a loose ball, sleeping on her side, trying to use her trapped body heat to warm up her cold feet.
The mix of crackling wood and the muted noise of the storm outside, paired with the charred scent of roasting wood slowly lulled her to slumber. Her thoughts gently dimmed and the repetive motion of breathes drove her away.
Back in the office, finishing his last letter expelled a deep sigh and leaned back on his chair whilst closing his tired eyes. Suddenly flinching when a crackle of lighting shot out somewhere in the distance . quickly jumping out his seat and with hurried steps lead himself to his bed.
Standing before the door to his own room, he slowly reached out towards the handle and gingerly turned the knob. Gently pushing the door trying to avoid the creaking of the hinges.
Thinking he was successful, a coarse voice came from the king sized bed, making him recall back. His long-lasting wife.
"When is she gone." She spoke out indifferently, pulling the blanket closer to her neck.
Letting out a quiet, sheepish laugh he slowly crept into the room. Replying in the same sheepish manner. Not wanting another night time argument.
"hahaha... soon honey."
"I want her gone quick." She quipped, her anger rising the longer he stayed in the room.
"I know I know." Nudging his way to the bed keeping a close eye on his wife.
"I Can't just throw her out..."
Hearing his, her fury spiked.
"Yes you can!"
Sitting herself up and staring at her husband with dangerously angled brows. She raised her arm and quickly swiped down. Aiming to give him another painful slap.
Knowing it was incoming, he rapidly backed off, dodging the strike and making her even more annoyed.
"I cannot believe you've done it again! You dirty fat pig! Get out my room right now!"
Shouting boldly which even the noise outside didn't dare disturb.
There was no rebuttal, no reply, no counter-argument to say unless he wanted another heartfelt beating. With a walk of shame he exited the room, moving to one of the many guest rooms when another comment came flying out his wife.
"I want another ring next week! Or I'll have you know pain!!"
Another want from his wife, she was weak to her desires and so is he, leading to this situation. And he has had enough, this was one too many. Not wanting to fight with his wife any longer the solution swirled in his brain once again.
That is, before another hit of thunder flicked passed his ears, sending him running.