Anna's notes

I know not what we will do. Our food stocks ran out long ago, save for one sack of onions. For a week we have each eaten a few bites of onion a day, and nothing else. The children once detested onions, but now gobble their morsel greedily and suck on the skins. Soon our bag will be empty. We have no wood or fuel, and the snows keep falling. The mayor has been sending men door to door to hand out modest rations and a bit of wood from the lighthouse storeroom, but no one has come for days. I am not surprised. The snow is piled nearly to the top of our windows - no one could get to our door. I am afraid, so horribly afraid, that we will not outlast this winter...