Dear Creepypasta [#Wattys2016]

Four years

Tomorrow's never promised. Each day that you wake up is a blessing. There's too many ungrateful people in the world that don't understand the reality of these words. Some are upset by their quality of life, others are upset by their quality of self. But if you woke up today, ate something that gave you nourishment and sustenance, and are relatively healthy, then you should be happy and thankful.

This is what I've been explaining to her for the last 4 years.

She refuses to accept that it will not get better than this. I'm not a poor man. We do not share a poor standard of living. However, I am self reliant. I do not need money or frivolous things to live. Capitalism has brainwashed society into believing that they need all of the crazy shit that you can buy nowadays. Who the fuck needs a life size replica of the Iron Throne? Or a fucking robotic vacuum cleaner that buzzes around doing effortless shit. Come on people, do you not see how your credit cards OWN you?

I try to keep things simple for her, I, and the kids. It's not so hard. The cows provide milk, cheese, and occasionally we slaughter for beef. The chickens provide us with enough eggs for at least one to two meals a day. The garden is my pride and glory. Everything grows in there from tomatoes and cucumbers to eggplants and fresh mint.

There's one serviceable road, but I don't use it much anyway unless I absolutely need to. When she was pregnant I had to go to town to get some supplies and some proactive and prevention medication for the newborn, as well as a shit ton of diapers and formula. I didn't want to have to make a second trip.

We now have four children in the last four years, and I'm hoping we can continue having them at about one per year. It makes me happy to see us growing as a family. She may not be happy, and the children may not understand. But I'm a proactive man, and I like to be prepared. Global escalations between the US and hostile countries, as well as within the US has gotten my attention. I'm preparing for the day that I know is coming, and I know it's coming soon.

I try to tell her all of this, but she doesn't want to listen. It's been four years and I still feel like I'm speaking to a wall when I try to converse with her. I feel bad that I keep her chained up in the basement. If she would cooperate, she wouldn't have to resort to a bucket as a toilet and she'd have more freedom.

It's been four years since she came knocking on my door, broken down about a half mile down the road. She just wanted to use the telephone she said. But I knew that this was God's way of telling me to proceed with what I knew was right.