#darlinglegacy

They were only children when they huddled outside, hugging each other, trying to keep warm.

Christopher held his siblings in his arms, pulling them closer, ​as close as he could. They sat on the ground, in some park, in an unknown neighborhood.

They once had beds, a warm and happy home. But for reasons none of them wished to discuss, they had to leave it all behind. Now there was only each other, and a little bit of hope. Mostly, there was coldness, hunger, and discomfort.

As an older teenager, Christopher felt the need to provide and protect his siblings. He made plans all day long in his head, trying to come up with ideas to get them out of their situation. The streets were no place for children, and that needed to change quickly. But what can you do when you’ve had to run ​miles, hours away from home? What can you do when all you’ve got is an empty belly and toddlers to care for and protect?

Well, he could paint. So he did. Every day he sat on the sidewalk with his battered easel and painted portraits for a few dollars. A few of them a day could sustain them. He earned pennies, but he saved them diligently and used the money only for necessities. He never thought an old, thrifted, broken easel would manage to sustain them. And it would, he hoped. Every day, he dreamt of what they would become, if only he could work a little more, a little harder.

He ran around town a lot, doing odd jobs for odd people. He painted fences, repaired door hinges, carried groceries. This boy seemed to be everywhere, but inside, he was nowhere.

Cathy held on to Chris’s arm around her. Much younger, she didn’t have the skills her brother had. But she was good with the little ones. She took care of the twins—​toddlers. She loved them very much, but wished they didn’t exist at all. They made everything so much harder. Because of them, she had to find twice as much food. When she picked fruit off trees along roads and in parks, she had to constantly make sure they were safe and entertained. One of them running into traffic would have been the end of her.

She loved them, but she wasn’t a dreamer like Christopher. She was angry and bitter: ​at the world, at life, even at herself for not enjoying what she once had when she had the chance. But there was no time for complaints or wishful thinking. Every day was the same: waking up in some park, or by a river, or anywhere they had found a place to rest. They shared food scraps found in the trash, donated by kind strangers, or greens harvested from their surroundings. They were most definitely malnourished, but nourished nonetheless, and they were thankful. Even her.

Then they moved, a little farther each day. A new park, a new alley, a new beach. They would settle for the day where they thought it would be safest, ​not too close to people, but not too far from businesses and homes where they could find some work. Chris hustled, Cathy picked and dug up roots and vegetables. The twins crawled and played, cried and napped. Then they settled for the night, and it would all start over the next day.

Who knew a public bathroom sink could do so much? Rinse their produce, wash stinky bums, freshen faces, fill baby bottles. And a piece of cardboard lined with crispy leaves? A perfect bed for a tired toddler. And a good old bush? The perfect toilet when no gyms or convenience stores were around. They had become quite resourceful.

Their goal was to go as far as they could from their old home. They didn’t know where exactly, but they were confident that, at some point, somewhere would feel right, and they would call that somewhere home. Or at least Chris was.

For now, they focused on surviving the day and making sure their little twins were clean enough and their little bellies full. And they did a pretty damn good job, given the circumstances.

She rubbed her hands together, out of habit more than anything, though she wasn’t actually cold. The house was warm.

Yes, the house was warm.

Cathy stuffed another piece of wood into the fireplace and sat back to watch the flames. The fire burned evenly, warming her skin. She rubbed her hands together, almost by habit, but she wasn’t really cold. The house was warm. The sound of small shuffling feet behind her made her smile, and she turned to see Cora, walking toward her. Cathy smiled and opened her arm, inviting Cora to come closer. The toddler scooted closer and snuggled in front of the fire with Cathy. She stretched out her legs, pointing her small wool-socked feet towards the flames, and giggled. Cathy pulled her closer and commented on the cozy fire. 

Outside, snow fell peacefully. Mounds of snow had already formed a few weeks ago, and the crops  on the Darling property were beginning to disappear beneath it. It had been months since the family had ‘’moved’’ to the property. When they arrived, it had been nothing but ruins. For a few months, they lived among them, somewhat sheltered from the elements. Almost daily, Lavina and her son Rahul visited them and brought essentials: blankets, tools, clothes for the twins, and even a guitar for Cathy. 

From then on, things moved very fast. With the twins hanging around them, playing among the debris, picking flowers, digging holes, and playing in sand— Cathy and Christopher worked day and night. With the tools provided by Lavina, they removed the broken sections of the foundation and the old wooden frames that were rotten or unsalvageable. They made piles of usable and unusable materials. They cleared the terrain: pulling out weeds and thorny bushes, kicking weak walls down, and shoveling old dirt, roots, and stones out of the remaining foundation. Every night, they collapsed into their sleeping bags (a gift from Rahul) and passed out from exhaustion. Their hands were raw and bloody, but they were energized by the task—and by their imagination. It wasn’t long before the ruins looked cleaner: a clear layout of the old home stood a few feet high, the surrounding soil was fresh, and the base was ready. With limited tools, they used clay, small stones, and mud to build up the rest of the walls. They used everything they could from the property itself, which Lavina had found incredibly impressive. When they ran out of mud and clay from their ‘’excavation’’, the mayoress organized a delivery of mortar mix, more nails, screws, and mixed wood planks from various homes in the village. Apparently, the villagers were glad to offer up their leftover pieces and supplies for the teens to work with. Clay and stones were used to fill the large gaps where foundation sections were missing, and in those areas the walls had to be rebuilt from scratch. Flattening their DIY  foundations was quite the challenge, but they succeeded at last. Eventually, the ruins became a set of full walls and rooms, standing on old and new foundations, all made from scratch and with their bare hands. 

Of course, it looked terrible. The walls were uneven, and any kind of finishing work was absent. The walls were bumpy with rocks and scratchy to the touch, but sturdy. Some sections had wooden beams to support the walls, others were half stone ruins, and half DIY mortar, and some had been built from the ground up with stone and clay. The rooms were only half divided on the inside: that would be a long-term issue. The floor was a patchwork too:alternating between old stone foundation, DIY foundation, and wooden beams. Again, it wasn’t very inviting, but wood planks could always be added. Holes for windows and the front door had been made—easier and cheaper than building full frames— but they were only covered with leftover pieces of wood nailed together. The roof was similar, supported by various pillars secured to the floor where future walls would be. 

It looked rough, but it kept the heat—or most of it, anyway— inside, and the rain and wind out. They had put together a very basic fireplace, out of  stone with a simple  hole in the ceiling. It wasn’t much, and required constant supervision around the twins to avoid  accidents, but it allowed them to grill food inside, and keep their corner of the house warm.  

They had spent every bit of their energy during the last weeks of the summer and all of fall to build this shell. They succeeded.

‘’Music?’’ inquired Cora, pulling on Cathy’s shirt. Cathy nodded and got up to grab the guitar. Her guitar. Lavina had offered it to her on one of her visits. She had told the teenage girl that she’d heard she could play, and that her own son wasn’t using it anymore. Upon hearing this, Cathy’s heart almost burst with excitement. She had been so caught up, tired, and busy, that she had nearly forgot such a thing existed. She took the instrument being handed to her and ran her fingers across the smooth finish. Lavina had tied a little ribbon bow around the neck. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she hugged Lavina. ‘’Thank you so much. This is a beautiful, thoughtful gift,’’ she said. She couldn’t wait to play music like before, and maybe even continue learning. 

Cora danced and giggled to the notes Cathy played for her, blissfully unaware of what the instrument meant for her sister. Corey soon joined, and Cathy continued playing, smiling at the sight of her siblings enjoying the simple things. She thought that maybe she, too, could start enjoying the simple things again. Her body hurt, and playing ached in her already injured fingers, but it made her feel so light— not only to play, but to share it with her family. And for the first time in a while, she considered that maybe the worst part was slowly passing them by, and one day, might be in the rearview mirror completely. They still had a lot of work to do, to make this structure a house— a home, a place for them to be, and for the twins to grow. More hard labour was needed, but it didn’t need to be rushed like that first part. Maybe they could actually enjoy it, take their time. 

Her fingers brushed the strings gently, and slowly, at the rhythm of the melody she played, her face relaxed, and her heart softened, as the urgency of survival danced its way out of her body. 

They were finally home.

On top of writing the Darling family’s legacy (novel style), I obviously play it (they are my one and only family!), and manage the whole world, townies, makeovers, relationships, everything. Little over the top and controlling you may think?

Thats okay, I know 🫣

Nevertheless, I love it!

Would you guys like for me to share more than the story, like world timelines, other relationships, game « rules », etc.?

Clouds... aren’t the clouds pretty?

Christopher was awakened by a small hand pressing on his eyeball. His eyes flung open, and he winced, initially blinded by the sun and the bright clouds. He must have fallen asleep for a minute. Cora was attempting to climb on his chest. Chris laughed and sat up, hugging her at the same time. The toddler tried to escape his grip, but he held her tight and covered her head with kisses. She giggled and exposed her stomach while trying to escape him. He took the opportunity and tickled her. Her squeals attracted Corey, who instantly wanted to join in on the fun. Christopher found himself buried beneath toddlers and giggles. 

⟡ Cathy's POV ⟡

‘’The fish aren’t biting here. Maybe I should try another spot,’’ thought Cathy. As she wondered what they were going to eat for ‘’lunch,’’ she heard her siblings laughing in the distance. She couldn’t quite see them from where she was standing, but it made her smile. She didn’t smile often these days. Frankly, there wasn’t much to smile about... Her life, once comfortable and worry free, had become a mess of hunger, tiredness, stress, discomfort—Far away from her old life. Gone were the days where she and Christopher argued over who would get the last bite of cake, or when she could stomp to her room and slam the door to prove a point. A room—any type— a roof, even— was a dream now. 

She was angry, often. Angry at her parents for dying. Angry at her parents for dying and not having made plans for them. Angry at the bank for taking their house. Angry at Christopher for making them leave their home. Angry at the twins for making all of it so much more complicated. Angry at her stomach for being eternally hungry. Angry at the dew that made her clothes all damp in the early morning. The list went on and on and on. 

She was very angry. But she was also thankful that she wasn’t alone. Just thinking about it was scary. She was thankful that Christopher knew what to do, what to pack. He didn’t know where to go, but they went still. She was thankful that he did his best to take care of her, Corey, and Cora. He promised he wouldn’t let them starve or be hurt, and so far, he had kept his promise. 

Despite her anger, she did find comfort in her siblings. It made her at least a little bit happy when she heard the twins laugh: it must mean they were at least okay. And she had to admit she, too, was okay. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the tug on her line. She hurriedly reeled in the fish and caught it in her hand. The slime grossed her out, but like many things these days, she had to suck it up. She took out her pocket knife and started to process the fish. Her dad had shown her how on one of their family fishing and camping trips. Then, she had insisted  she would NEVER do such a thing, but her dad had made her learn. Thankfully, she remembered. The first few times were more difficult, but she was pretty good at it now. And despite being so gross to the touch, she had to admit that freshly caught fish was pretty tasty once grilled over the fire. 

Happy with her catch, she started to make her way back to her brothers and sister. Chris had already lit the park barbecue, and he beamed when he saw her holding up the fish. 

‘’Ah! I’m glad you caught something. What did you use as bait?’’ asked Chris. 

‘’I got some berries from a nearby bush. I didn’t have much hope at first, but i caught a pretty big one after all!’’ she said. 

She handed the fish to Chris, who immediately started roasting it. She walked over to a nearby tree and started picking at the few diapers she had hung on a low branch to see if they were dry. They were still damp. She sighed and sat down near the twins. 

‘’Are we moving again today?’’ she asked without looking at Chris. 

‘’I’d really like to stay a little longer. Remember the mayoress? She said she had work for us. I think this spot in the park is fine, don’t you?’’ he replied. 

‘’Whatever,’’ said Cathy. 

Could this be our new home? Could it be? 

The teenagers stopped walking. Cathy held Corey on her hip, and Christopher carried Cora on his back. They stopped in silence, and looked at what was going to be their home one day. 

At the moment, the only thing there really was to look at was ruins. A small house stood there once, the villagers said. It had burnt down, and the owners abandoned it. The land had been left for decades, now overgrown with weeds. The structure of the old house still stood there . There was no roof, and not really any walls either. But you could tell that some of these stone walls were once part of a building. A few of them still connected to each other, forming a sort of low, broken maze, covered in green moss and vines. 

‘’There is no roof, and the walls barely deserve that name,’’ said Cathy.  

‘’But the walls will surely cut off some wind during the night, don’t you think?’’ said Chris. 

Cathy pouted. ‘’I guess it’s better than the park.’’ She paused. ‘’You’re right. This is good. This will be good.’’ 

The twins were not awake to witness this moment. This pause, this realization -finally, they had somewhere to call home. It would take a lot of work, and a lot of time. They would still be sleeping outside for many more months, while they fixed up the place, but eventually, it would be better. And in the meantime, they could… stay there. Safe, home. The sheer concept felt so strange to the both of them. 

Really, Chris was the one to be thanked for this. Once they made it into Henford-on-Bagley, he had commented on the beauty of the landscapes, and the picturesqueness of the area. Cathy had agreed, but she couldn’t really afford to care. So what if it was pretty ? They would be only passing by, surely. The twins cried; she fished, gutted mechanically, roasted the flesh on a park grill. She was too disconnected to care. Chris fed the twins some berries he foraged, keeping only a few for himself and Cathy. While the family ate the freshly caught fish, seated at a picnic table by what seemed like a pub, a lady walked by. Cathy didn’t notice, as she was busy with little Cora. But Chris noticed the lady waving, and waved back with a smile. 

The next day, after waking up beside his siblings, Chris sat there for a minute. Sitting directly on the grass, his clothes were damp from spending the night on the moist soil. He checked the twins: they were fast asleep, huddled against Cathy and lying on his thick jacket. Cathy’s head was also on the jacket, her arm draped over them. Thankfully, it was summer, he thought. He got up, and started walking around the park. He found a garden patch that seemed to belong to the community. Jackpot, he thought. He harvested only what he believed was respectful, though it wasn’t quite enough: two apples, some fresh herbs, blueberries, and a handful of wild mushrooms. He walked back to his siblings, and left the small pile by Cathy, as they were all still asleep. He grabbed his old easel, and walked farther away, toward the more frequented area. Maybe a few portraits would buy them a hot meal to share at the pub, he thought. 

Christopher sat down and patiently waited for someone to request a portrait, or anything he could sketch or paint for them. He fiddled anxiously with his rag, stained with paint. Before long, he noticed the lady from the previous night walking towards him. She was waving happily at him again. He waved back, and asked if she wanted a portrait. 

‘’Sure, boy !’’ said the woman. She sat in front of him as he gestured. 

Christopher started painting what was before him, just as he had done for so many other people before. His brush expertly glided over the canvas paper, pinned to a piece of cardboard. In minutes, he had laid down the foundation of the painting: the woman’s frame, her skirtsuit and the basic plaid pattern of the outfit. After a few silent minutes, he asked what the pin on her jacket stood for, as he began outlining the color of it on his portrait of her. 

‘’This is the mayoress’s pin’’, said the woman. ‘’I manage this village.’’ 

Christopher smiled. ‘’Oh, that is very nice ma’am. You sure have a beautiful place to call home !’’. 

‘’Thank you very much,’’ said the lady. ‘’My name is Lavina. My son Rahul,  is just a little older than you. He delivers the groceries here. Tell me, young man- you’re awfully young to have such a full family. I saw your wife and children yesterday in the park. Are you travelling?’’ asked Lavina. 

Christopher kept his eyes on his canvas. His portrait was almost over. ‘’Oh, that’s not my wife, nor are the little ones my children. Cathy is my sister, and the twins —Corey and Cora— are our younger siblings,’’ he said. 

‘’Oh, how imaginative of me! Sorry about that,’’ said the mayoress. ‘’Are you traveling?,’’ she asked again. 

A few more paint strokes and the portrait would be finished. Christopher felt his cheeks flush and looked forward to the conversation ending soon. He had said enough. The last thing he needed was an authority figure to ask more questions and give them trouble. Would she cause a scene? Would she judge him and Cathy, report him to the authorities? Did she want to take the twins from his care ? His mind was reeling.  People usually didn’t ask questions. He wasn’t sure what to do of this interaction. 

‘’Yes, sort of,’’ he said, hesitantly. ‘’We’re trying to find some work during the summer and make a little bit of money before returning home for the fall,’’ he lied. 

‘’Ah! I see. Would you like some work in the village ? Surely the pub or the market stands could use an extra hand,’’ she offered. 

Christopher sighed in relief. The portrait was over, and he got a nice opportunity out of it ! 

‘’My sister and I would love that. Thank you very much ma’am,’’ Christopher said as he unclipped the canvas from the cardboard supporting it.  He handed her the canvas. ‘’Keep it on a flat surface until it fully dries; then it’ll be fine to roll up if you want,’’ said the teenager.  

‘’This is beautiful! You are a true artist. I’ll come by later to discuss possible work for you and your sister. Maybe we could find some artistic work for you, young man. Here in Henford-on-Bagley, we are a small community. Support is very important to us,’’ she said. 

‘’Thank you ma’am,’’ said Chris. 

Lavina patted his shoulder affectionately and smiled. She handed him a fifty-dollar bill,  then walked away. 

Christopher waited for the mayoress to disappear behind a building, then hurriedly packed his easel and ran to where he had woken up just a few hours before. He found Cathy and the twins eating what he had left. Cathy had already washed the twins' diapers in the river, and they were drying on the park bench. He ran towards her, all smiles. 

‘’Cathy! Cathy!’’ he called. 

‘’What?’ replied the girl as she wiped Corey’s cheek with the corner of her shirt. 

‘’I met with the mayoress just now. Her name is Lavina. Anyways, that’s not important. She was asking so many questions and-’’ 

‘’What did she say? Did she ask about our parents?’’ interrupted Cathy. 

‘’Don’t worry, I told her we’re only travelling over the summer. Anyways, she said she has work for us around the village. I think we should stay around longer than a day — maybe this is our chance to earn a little bit of money,’’ he said. 

Cathy could see how hopeful he was. She was doubtful, but she agreed. Afterall, a park in a village, or a park in a busy city... a park is a park right ? 

‘’Sure,’’ she said. ‘’As long as we stay close to some water so we can clean the twins’ diapers and stuff. We were pretty comfy in this area last night,’’ she added. 

Christopher smiled and hugged her. ‘’We’ll be okay. I have a good feeling about this’’, he said. 

Chris lay in the grass, looking at the sky. Cathy left to go fish. He let the twins crawl and play around him. He closed his eyes, letting the sun’s rays warm his face. He could still see the clouds behind his eyelids. The twins’ giggles seemed to fade as he fought sleep. His mind was already populated with images of safety and warmth.