MarchMadness - Day 1 - prompt: In the club

March Madness, I have to give it a try although I write (and tell) mainly short stories and for sure I might have a lack of words.

Who knows I can make a long story out of all the short stories I will write this month. I learned, thanks to @mariannewest, there is always a story to tell, no matter what the prompt is. If you like to join or like to be a #MMFan (reading the novels written this month) please do so @freewritehouse see HERE.

The picture is a pixabay.com pic.

03-01 - word count: 1619

'I will not tell you what to do, but you can come over and have a look, might be you even like it in the club', he said to his younger brother.
'You could be a bit more realistic about what the world is about nowadays. It is no longer what it once was, nothing is. We need to find a way to survive. We are the only ones still alive, mom and dad will no longer be there to save you, provide you in your needs.'

The young boy sighted. It was not the first time his brother started about it.
He knew everything did change. So did he. For a long time he hoped his parents would come back home, now he felt that would never happen.
'They cannot be dead', he whispered, 'I am sure they are still alive, they promised, no matter what, they would always come back home.' He started crying.

'Stop crying, you know they won't come back and if so, you think they would like to see you this way? Not able to take care of yourself? Don't you feel ashamed about yourself? How disappointed they must feel if they see what came out of you after all these years they did raise and train you! You really think their stories where just tales to kill time? These were lessons. They knew what would come. They read it in the old books. It was all foresaid by people who lived ages ago. They all had that special gift, tried to warn those who came after them. Sad how less we learned out of their lessons, the history. His voice sounded bitter. He knew his younger brother didn't had such a strong personality as his parents thought he would have. He had to give him a hand, push him into the right direction so he would survive. Surviving was the only thing that mattered at this moment. What if something did happen to him? Would the boy give up on everything? He would not let that happen. Not as long as he lived. He would kick his ass if needed, make sure he would get the best life possible and find him a family. Those without a family would be the first, most in danger.

The lad stopped sobbing. He knew his brother was right.
He saw the disappointed face of his father, the hurt in his mother's eyes, heard her voice saying the words in his ear right before she left. He would not disappoint her, nor his father. He knew what to do if it came to it.
He was nearly 14 years old now. His dad told him it was the age in the old days boys were men already. They had to work, take care of the family and so would he. He would take care, not only of himself and his brother but also of those who might need it the most of all. The ones without a family of their own.

'Fine, I will come with you. Just to see how or what. You might be right, I might like it after all. But if we leave who will take care of the house? It is all we have. Without there is no place to go. I really don't like to give up on it. Also if mom and dad do come back....'
'Even if they won't come back', he thought, 'I can not give up this place. It is one of the last things that remind me of them. It's... home.'

'We will leave our companions here, it will just be for a day or so to start with. They won't let anyone in and they won't leave. You know the house will be save with them. It does only mean we have no one to protect us, so we need to stay close and if.. we need to do the job ourselves. Do you agree with that?'

The boy nodded. He did not care about what happened outside on the streets as long as the house was safe.

'Well we better catch some sleep now before we leave. If we are lucky we can catch the freight train of 11:16 pm and we do not need to walk. It will save us a lot of time.'

As they both were laying in their beds the eldest told the companions what he expected from them.
He heard their voices in his head, worried, answering him. They were clearly not happy with what he asked. Letting both brothers leaving alone. They gave their promise to the parents to take care of them. It was hard to break it, but they knew there was no other way as to accept it.

'Be careful and you know what to do if you need us', they said, 'remember your life is more valuable as the house and do not tell anyone what you are capable of. We will wake you up in time.

'Thanks. I know how to reach you', he said and fall asleep. Sleep was the only thing he needed at this moment. There would be a long day ahead.

It was cold outside, a strong wind was blowing.
Both boys were shivering and felt nervous as they were waiting for the train.

'You will go first. If I tell you, you run and jump. You only have one chance so jump and hold on. If you cannot make it, we have to walk. Understood?'

The boy nodded. It was longer ago they did practise to jump on riding vehicles. It was a kind of sport he liked and he turned out to be good at it. He always made it. He never tried to jump on the train, but it couldn't be that different. They heard the signals, the train would be there soon.

'Are you ready? The weather will at least help us not to be seen that easily. If the 4th wagon passed by you start running and jump. I will be right after you. Now', he shouted as the train passed by with a hell of a noise.

The boy started running and jumped on the 5th wagon just like planned. It was more like a platform as a carriage and it was hard to hold on. The wind was strong. He didn't know if his brother made it, but he didn't care for the moment. He felt great. He made it!
For the first time since his parents left he felt alive. Getting off the train wouldn't be such a problem. It would be in one hour or so and the train its last stop. Carefully he looked around him. Those crates... he could crawl into the middle and hide between them. For sure there would be less wind. It would be warmer and he didn't need all his energy to hold on, not to be blown off the train. Slowly he crawled into the direction of the crates. He was surprised to find out how many things there were with a handle attached to it.
'It only makes it easier for me', he thought. In between the crates he could let go of it and give his arms and muscles some rest.

Between the crates it was exactly as he expected.
The wind was not felt at all. If he wouldn't hear it blow he would have never imagined it was a stormy evening. His head leaned against a yellow crate. He looked at the green crate in front of him.

'I wonder if that is the colour of grass', he thought.
He never saw grass, only heard about it in the stories his parents told. They said there once were many different kinds. Some kinds were eaten by people, others by certain animals or it was dried and used for them. It didn't exist in the world he was living. It caused too much allergies, that was all he knew.
He didn't know what allergies were, so his parents tried to describe it to him. It was a disease that made people kept sneezing, gave them watery eyes, running noses, infected their immune system, changed their DNA. It did attach the whole body. Made it feel itchy and knobbly, gave trouble breathing till the flue came. What the flue was he knew. He saw people suffering for it. Not his family. It did not seem to be a danger to them.

The leaders of the past decided to get rid of the over 8,000 kinds of grasses. He tried to remember the difficult name his father gave to the family of grasses, but he couldn't remember it no matter how hard he tried.
He thought about his brother, his only family left over. How come grass has had more family members as he had?

He closed his eyes and listened to the sound of the wind.
For some reason it sounded like a song, he was sure he heard a voice. Was the wind singing a lullaby or?
'Come a bit closer', it sang and he did... he crawled to the green crate and stared at it. He was sure it was the green crate. The crate was talking to him. Was he finally losing his mind? Was his brother right? He told him so many times not to lose his mind.

'You are not losing your mind', the voice said followed by a giggle.

He knocked on the box, pinched into it and wondered if it was alive.

'The crate isn't alive, but I am', the voice said. 'What a dummy you are. I am inside of it. Can you give me a hand and get me out of here?'

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