The Foranfolk

A cold rain battered the inundanted little village of Foran. Its residents and families lie huddled together in their fauna-based communal homes, nearly resembling penguins, though they knew not of this. Lightning crashed, rooves leaked, and mothers hushed babies’ cries, but still the Foranfolk persisted.

Spark shimmered his way into his father’s lap, and the two sat together listening to the hollow patter and the noise of an eerie quiet filling the void between whispered voices. A frozen slash of wind whipped through their fire-burning hearth sabotaging Spark’s comfort, shivering his spine, and raising the hairs on his arms. His father looked down at him, seemingly confused as if the wind were meant for Spark alone, imperceptible to him.

Spark’s mother and sister approached, each bearing a welcome warm bowl of vegetable soup. “There you are, my deer,” Spark’s mother Violet said, handing her bowl to him as Spark’s sister, Star, delivered hers to her father. Violet and Star sat with their loved ones, and their stomachs warmed contentedly with each spoonful. After a while, the Fern family of five lingered near, and, finding their own corner, huddled together. Spark’s father whispered in his son’s ear and the pair rose and slunk away; Violet smiled and Star tilted her head. The man returned, awkwardly bearing a nearly-full pot toward them with Spark in tow carrying a small sack. The two approached the Ferns without a word and beckoned them toward the waiting Violet and Star. The Ferns nodded and smiled quiety at the family as Spark withdrew more bowls and a ladel from the bag. His father filled the bowls and distributed them as Spark dug around for spoons. In this way, the two families, the group of nine, ate to their stomach and hearts’ content, in relative silence; the sound of munching and slurping the only thing heard until Spark sharply inhaled in surprise and quickly reclaimed the bag. Pulling out a loaf, he smiled widely and broke the bread among them.