(Story in Progress) Chapter I: Tranquillitas ante Tempestatem

Do you ever wonder where stars come from? Yeah, there is that scientific explanation of nebulas and black holes and what not that I think I read in that one Astrology textbook, but I think there is more to stars than what those lame boring scientists have to say. Do you believe our loved ones look down on us as stars from the afterlife? I sure hope they do...

Thoughts race through my head. I lay on my back looking at the starry night sky. The calm winds caress my cheeks. The tall grass embrace me. The soil warms me with its residual heat from the hot summer day. A moment of peaceful silence, something that I craved for since the infamous day one year ago. I close my eyes and the manufactured chaos ensues around me, disrupting nature's placidity.

* * *

The sun peaked over the horizon, announcing its arrival. The sunlight slowly crept up the walls and shone brightly on the family pictures on the wall. An amalgamation of memories adorned the family home: a man in military camouflage standing in front of a palace in the desert, newlyweds smiling under a white wedding arch, husband and wife standing in front of a beautiful wooden home on the outskirts of the woods, a father cradling his new-born in pink overalls, a young girl smiling into the camera with a baby in blue. In the distance, a rooster incessantly crowed to ring in the new day. A dog, unamused, barked back.

Mr. Wells turned in his bed to see the alarm clock display 7:13am. Maybe another minute wouldn't hurt, but a sudden ice-cold touch shocked him to attention. Mrs. Well had turned towards him, grazing his bare back with her ice-cold hand that had snuck out of the sheets over night. Mr. Wells turned back to his wife.

"Left your hand out of the sheets all night, did you?" said Mr. Wells, chuckling under his breath. He combed his fingers through her long brunette hair to reveal her face.

"At least it's not my feet, or I would be tied around your warm body like a tight knot and we would need a sailor to pry me off. Oh wait, I married one," Mrs. Wells replied with a chuckle and began to embrace Mr. Wells' warm, chiseled body.

Mr. Wells was a retired Navy Seal and lived as an analyst for a major consulting firm. After an honourable 20 years of military service, he was the recipient of a Silver Star, which ironically marked his career high and final straw that influenced him to retire. The award sat on top of the fireplace in the living room, next to a folded flag. Mr. Wells never talked about this experience with others, not even with his family. Instead, he continued to revel in night outings with his coworkers and friends and caring for his family.

A loud commotion rattled the wooden floors. Giggling accompanied the stomping rampage. Lindsey and Sam were up to no good again. Mr. and Mrs. Wells reluctantly decided to get out of bed and armour up for their parenting and professional responsibilities. Mrs. Wells slipped into the en suite bathroom to wash her face and apply her make up before she proceeded to the dressing room to put on the dark blue dress she received from Mr. Wells as a birthday present. She was a senator and an important vote was planned, warranting a bold outfit for her day. For Mr. Wells, it was a simple grey suit and a pink tie, which he quickly put on. His professional life didn't require too much thought in his outfit. He swiftly dressed up, tied his dress shoes, and prepared to face the youthful chaos.

"Sounds like the resident troublemakers have risen from their dungeons," said Mr. Wells, as he opened the door and made his way along the hallway that connected the master bedroom with the two children bedrooms and the large kitchen and living area. Thankfully the kitchen sat just right of the hallway exit, meaning Mr. Wells didn't have to travel too far to start the espresso machine for his morning cuppa. Of course, preparing breakfast for the family as he always does every morning was up on the priority list as well.

"I'm gonna catch ya," yelled Lindsey, as she chased Sam out of his room, briefly cutting Mr. Wells on his way to the kitchen. Still in their pajamas, they took a sharp left in the living room, running out the porch doors that led to the backyard, laughing. They were up to their cops and robbers shenanigans, something Sam found amusing after watching that cartoon with animal cops. At least Mr. Wells didn't have to run around while nursing his old injuries, as Lindsey took the chasing role to heart. Mr. Wells felt like he earned a cheat code to parenting with Lindsey.

"Don't hurt yourselves now," said Mr. Wells, as he continued on his way. Mr. Wells turned on the espresso machine and opened the door to the refrigerator that stood next to the machine. He rummaged for breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, and eggs would have to do. The batter was premade in the refrigerator and the eggs and bacon needed a quick fry. Easy as pie, thought Mr. Wells, as he turned on the stove and began to cook.

Soon after, Mrs. Wells entered with her hair tied back and dressed in her elegant dress. Mr. Wells looked up for a moment to admire his beautiful wife. The dress fit just as he imagined, outlining her slim contour. The dark heels matched her dress, both contrasting with her pale skin. Dark eyeliner accentuated her neutral, smokey eyes that gave her a bold look that would frighten any grown man. Mr. Wells looked on with dreamy eyes, as if he was staring at goddess Athena.

"Stop staring, honey. You might go blind," chuckled Mrs. Wells. "I smell eggs and bacon. Are we getting treated well on this fine Friday morning?"

Mr. Wells jumped out of his daze. "Oh, yeah. Thought I'd give everyone an early taste of the weekend," he said, as he turned back to tend to the sizzling food.

Mrs. Wells walked over to the television that sat at the corner of the living room next to the fireplace and across from the kitchen. Using the remote, she turned on the television and searched for the local news channel.

...and you can order the new car for just forty-thousand dol...revolutionizing your farmi...sorting your painkiller nee...cks are down one-hundred-and-ten points, causing more worry to the financial needs of the people. Good morning from the studio. It is Friday, 19 October 2020. I'm your host Kimberly Stratton with breaking news for this morning. Government sources claim that negotiations between the government and the rebellion group known as The Kilma are proceeding swiftly with great progress. The rebellion group began their guerilla fighting...

"I hope the vote today will quiet things down. Maybe we'll even get to see a path towards peace. I don't want our kids to continue to live with this threat around," said Mrs. Wells.

Mr. Wells grew somber. It was a worry that guerilla warfare was threatening the security of the country. He knew what war was like and never wished it upon his family to experience it. He worried about his kids the most. 17-year-old Lindsey was preparing for college. 10-year-old Sam was at an age where he should be making friends and playing outside. But looming dangers of warfare made normal life difficult. Going to school during these uncertain times was stressful, as no one knew if schools could be a target for terror activity from the guerilla rebel group. However, Lindsey and Sam were on their mid-semester break at school, meaning they were able to stay home for a week. Mr. Wells knew he had to be optimistic, at least to brighten up his family.

"Eh, don't worry about it! It'll be fine!" replied Mr. Wells, shaking his head to rid of the dark thoughts. The ring of the espresso machine notified the coffee was ready. Mr. Wells was delighted.

"Want a cuppa?" asked Mr. Wells.

"Sure," replied Mrs. Wells.

She turned back to the kitchen island that segregated the kitchen from the living area. She sat on the far left barstool of the four that stood by the island, closest to her husband. Mr. Wells poured and placed a cup of coffee in front of her and returned to finishing the cooking. Mrs. Wells watched on, as Mr. Wells panicked around, worrying not to burn the food. Thankfully, he successfully prepared breakfast, set the table, and called to meal.

Lindsey and Sam walked in from the backyard. They sat next to their mother and were surprised by the extravagant breakfast choices. Usually they had to resort to cereal or toast, but this meal was spectacularly different. Sam mindlessly piled up his plate and stuffed his face to heart's content. Lindsey joined in.

"Dad, what's the occasion? We never get to eat this well on a weekday," said Lindsey, as she grabbed a pancake.

"Well, I thought I'd give you an early taste of the weekend. And, of course, your mother has a big day ahead of her," said Mr. Wells.

"Oh, the vote thing is today?" asked Lindsey, taking a bite of her pancake.

"Yes, dear. So, that means I'll be a little late today, but I'm sure dad will be home early, right honey?" said Mrs. Wells.

"That's right. I have a meeting in the morning and will be home around 3 o'clock," said Mr. Wells.

"Perfect. So, in the meantime, you have to take care of your brother and stay home," said Mrs. Wells, worried about her kids' safety. "Lock the doors and don't forget to eat lunch. There should be some leftovers in the fridge for both of you."

"Okay," said Lindsey, gobbling up the rest of her pancake.

Lindsey turned to Sam and noticed the mess of syrup, pancake crumbs, and egg around his plate and on his face.

"God, Sam. Eat cleaner," said Lindsey with a chuckle. She grabbed a napkin that lay stacked in the middle of the island and began to wipe Sam's face.

"What can I do, sis. This is just too good and I can't afford to eat neatly and slowly. We might run out," replied Sam. The family laughed.

"Don't worry. Have mine," said Lindsey, pouring more eggs, bacon, and pancakes onto Sam's plate.

The cuckoo clock on the wall next to the porch doors shrieked 8:00am.

"Oh my, look at the time! I gotta get going," said Mrs. Wells. She picked up her bag that lay next to the sofa that stood near the island and facing the television, just as she had left it the night before. "Love you guys and see you tonight." She kissed Mr. Wells goodbye before walking out the front doors adjacent to the refrigerator. Mr. Wells watched her black sedan pull out to the main road and disappear into the distance through the kitchen window.

Sam sat back in his stool, satisfied from his morning feast. Lindsey decided to help her brother clean up.

"Come on. Let's get you cleaned up," she said, directing him to the bathroom door that stood between the cuckoo clock and the hallway opening. Sam obliged, hands and mouth sticky. They disappeared into the bathroom.

Mr. Wells began to clean up, rinsing the used plates and sticking them into the dishwasher. The dirty dishes from last night's dinner and now today's breakfast filled the machine for a cleaning cycle. Satisfied, Mr. Wells closed the dishwasher door. Just as he pressed the start button, a sudden boom shook the neighborhood. Out the kitchen window, Mr. Wells saw a large billow of black smoke emanate beyond the tree line, followed by more explosions just beyond that.

Mr. Wells quickly turned for the bathroom to ensure his children's safety. Bursting through the door, he saw both his children crouched between the sink and the shower.

"Are you okay," asked Mr. Wells, running to his children.

They both nodded, pale with fright.

Mr. Wells brought them to the living room. The television let off its breaking news fanfare.

Just breaking now. Reports of heavy military attacks are coming in from government sources. Heavy gunfire are reported in the capital city of Krattenberg, along with the major cities of Rallen and Yuleten. Government officials have not yet declared martial law, but are advising people to stay at home and to lock all windows and doors. The military is being deployed to respond to these attacks.

"Dad, are we at war?" asked Lindsey.

"I don't know, dear. I don't know."