Dear Diary,
Is it possible to love someone with all your heart yet, at the same time, hate something about them with the intensity of a thousand suns?
Last night, during the midst of a storm --and not the one pouring mountains of snow upon us-- the tension between Rikhard and I was palpable. All right, I admit it.... I kicked him in the foot and then smacked him with a blanket. The first was intentional, I confess. He was snoring... incessantly. I wasn't even sure if I had been able to sleep most of the night, or if it was only a handful of hours. His snoring from the couch sounded as loud as thunder. In truth, I believe his exhales helped to stoke the fire in the hearth.
You may accuse me of vast exaggeration but I assure you, it's not. So when I woke to the wind whistling in the air and the shutters rattling from the storm outside, another brewed in the cottage. Everything about him seemed to vex my nerves. It had to be my worry on the storm and, of course, the odd occurrence from a few days prior.
We were checking on the land by the border fences and I stumbled, quite literally, into an old well. Thankfully, Rikhard was there to help pull me up but it was terrifying. What made it even more odd that the well seemed to be... rigged, somehow. Like a trap for big game. I've not heard of any hunters in the area, nor of any reports of anything that might be seasonally hunted. Chester found a bundle of netting as well, and he tore it to shreds... along with sketches of what looked like Rikhard and myself. My instincts are telling me that the assailant who came to the barn was right -- others will follow.
And now, with this storm, I feel all the more vulnerable and trapped. But I know I cannot hold Rikhard responsible for my fears and worries. In truth, without him I'd have been dead three times over.
Tonight I'll make him a special meal. And, perhaps, take his suggestion on keeping him awake to prevent him from snoring. That is, I must say, a benefit to us both.
Yours, TK
Is it possible to love someone with all your heart yet, at the same time, hate something about them with the intensity of a thousand suns?
Last night, during the midst of a storm --and not the one pouring mountains of snow upon us-- the tension between Rikhard and I was palpable. All right, I admit it.... I kicked him in the foot and then smacked him with a blanket. The first was intentional, I confess. He was snoring... incessantly. I wasn't even sure if I had been able to sleep most of the night, or if it was only a handful of hours. His snoring from the couch sounded as loud as thunder. In truth, I believe his exhales helped to stoke the fire in the hearth.
You may accuse me of vast exaggeration but I assure you, it's not. So when I woke to the wind whistling in the air and the shutters rattling from the storm outside, another brewed in the cottage. Everything about him seemed to vex my nerves. It had to be my worry on the storm and, of course, the odd occurrence from a few days prior.
We were checking on the land by the border fences and I stumbled, quite literally, into an old well. Thankfully, Rikhard was there to help pull me up but it was terrifying. What made it even more odd that the well seemed to be... rigged, somehow. Like a trap for big game. I've not heard of any hunters in the area, nor of any reports of anything that might be seasonally hunted. Chester found a bundle of netting as well, and he tore it to shreds... along with sketches of what looked like Rikhard and myself. My instincts are telling me that the assailant who came to the barn was right -- others will follow.
And now, with this storm, I feel all the more vulnerable and trapped. But I know I cannot hold Rikhard responsible for my fears and worries. In truth, without him I'd have been dead three times over.
Tonight I'll make him a special meal. And, perhaps, take his suggestion on keeping him awake to prevent him from snoring. That is, I must say, a benefit to us both.
Yours, TK