Spinning Through Lies

Minutes Ago....

The house in which I dwell is so vacant. I miss the sounds of my brother laughing at my mother's corny knock-knock jokes. Now I don't know where my brother is or if hes still even alive for that matter. A few years ago, my parents and I all left him at home because he was feeling too ill to go hiking through the mountains. Standing on the mountain, we fell through the dirt. A tiny rock-covered cottage caught our eyes. It seemed empty of anyone else and we had no other options. Automatically, the cottage was our home. A few years later, tragedy struck for my parents. They met their end at the hands of three hostile monsters. I can specifically remember the tallest one who seemed to be leader of the pack. His horns were almost golden-looking and his skin sparkled. Our eyes met and he grinned. It was inhumane, so much that I almost fainted. I ran so fast and when I glanced back, my parents and the monsters weren't there. I was eleven at the time and I understood what was the inevitable. My parents were dead. I was all alone. To secure my assumption, screams entered my ears. Traumatizing was an understatement at this point in time. Hearing the once sweet, caring, and loving voices of my parents violently manipulated into cries of terror filled my heart with sorrow and fear. I ran frantically far away back to the cottage. My brother's life is now a mystery to me. A number of things could have happened to him and I most likely would not be able to guess any of them. I miss him just like my parents. Everyday for me is a prayer that I can get out of the underground and find my brother. After praying, I eat whatever food I have. However, it looks like there's nothing left. I have to travel to the shop. There's a monster I met named Steven that was surprisingly friendly. We met by mistake and I admittedly tried to hide once he saw me, but he has no intentions of hurting humans. When he said that, I stepped out from behind a boulder and saw his face. Steven sort of looked human. On the other hand, he has tusks like a buffalo and skin like a fish. I got close enough that he could kill me if he wanted to, but he didn't. Afterwards, we became good friends and I visit his shop every week. Of course I do have to avoid others. As far as I know, there are no other people in the entire underground or what Steven calls, "The Ditch". I mean, there are cities and streets down here, but walking in them would be a death wish; a minnow in a sea of sharks.