The Creator

Intro

Joan Thorn never understood why someone would choose to hide.

Her aunt Lily had been a dodger since Joan was little, the last time she spoke to her was when she was no older than 6.

She lost her to hiding and fear. Even now she doesn't know if she's even alive.

But what upset her more was her mother Maria's worry over her. Making little Joan promise to say the words and enlist, or risk disappointing her mother and in turn losing one of the only things she wanted to fight for.

Or worse, be like her aunt and hide.

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The great big beautiful american sun shone down and weaved its way into the bedroom where Joan sits in her bed with a small cup of tea and a small slightly tattered copy of 'Jane Eyre', one of her favourite classic books.

She keeps anxiously checking her watch religiously, waiting for the hands to reach 10, when her mother would start anxiously tidying the house for the family weekly dinner. Her last one until... one day, she didn't know when.

Maria Thorn loves tradition, she shifts around the house like a robot searching for even a spot of grime to clean with efficiency, she always told Joan: 'It shows respect and dedication' 

Which Joan always countered with 'Yes mother but I hardly think aunt Lola, the same woman that was Sarah Alders second in command and survived literal war, will care about a messy room.' 

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"Joanne help me by getting the table cloth"

Joan gently placed her bookmark and opened a chipped windowed cabinet in the centre of the wall, it displayed pictures of a young girl covered in mud while grinning ear to ear: starkly contrasted to the serious yet proud picture of her mother standing beside Joan who wears a graduation cap and is smiling faintly. A older woman, Joan's nana, holds a giant bouquet of roses, short and tall, thrown together with a card reading 'We knew you could do it!'

Joan reaches in and pulls a cloth that has several subtle stains littered around it which her mum had tried to furiously scrub, to no avail. Her mother quickly takes it from her and delicately spreads it on the table, smoothing a simple crease in the centre and covering the worst of the stains with cutlery and dishes.

"That'll do for now, Joan please go get the door and dear, please remember to smile"

"But they always say-"

"-About you saying the words and for understandable reasons, they're worried. They're your family they always will be. Your nana left early because of her throat cancer and her anxiety, you just have to be patient with them."

Joan sighs and fixes part of her hair "Fine. But who's coming anyway?"

"Your nana Bett, Your aunt Lola and her husband Derik. Just... Just be the polite girl I know you are. It's tradition for them to stay until after you say the words"

"But I want it to just be us."

"I know sweetie. But we have to"

"No we don-"

"Yes. Yes we do" Her mother walks to the kitchen and pours a cup of coffee. "They can't know about your... condition"

"IT's not a condition mum"

"You can create work. That certainly is a condition Joan. One that is impressive to say the least. But you know what happens to people like that? Like you? They get killed and manipulated and I know you're you and you won't say it but just be careful, okay?"

"...I promise"

"Now.. you can go to your room, and i'll.. i'll see if I can convince your Nana and aunt to not come, hmm? How about that?"

"...Seriously?"

"Anything for you my flower.

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