Sealed With Ink

One

Arabella, roses have thorns too...
23 June 1945

You know when you look back on something, and in hindsight, you realize how you could have stopped something, done something better. I could have saved two lives, three if we are counting my own. I could have kept my family together, right now instead of being hunched over a pathetic stick on fire they call a candle round here, I could be reading in the fields around my village.

But then again, I would not have met you. So, maybe it wasn't a mistake after all.

I made my 'mistake' on 13 May 1942. My family and I had gone on a trip to the nearby village, Little Brington. Every year, our community of villages took turns in hosting a day of festivals. Little Brington had chosen to host the floral festival, of course, it was nothing compared to what the festivals were like before the war. I remember, in 1938, right before the war slapped us all across the face, the same festival had been hosted in this village. Oh, Arabella, you would have loved it.

There were flowers everywhere. They had been pinned on every tree, hidden in every gap of bricks to make it seem like they bloomed from there, handed out to every child to wear as a crown. Every colour of flower was there, magenta, sage, cream, plum, peach, indigo, lapis... every bloody colour. And every type of flower. From cyclamens to aquilegias, not that I expect you to know them, but I did. I adore flowers, of any kind. I know all their names. Long ago I had planned to fly to America and watch the flower parades; I suppose now I will never get to.

Never mind that, I would hate to get sappy on you.

As you can imagine, the floral festival of '43 was a mockery of what it had once been. My mother, Doris, had told me as much. But being the stubborn fool I was, I pushed and pushed and pushed until she gave in. That, I later came to realize, would be the moment my stubbornness would come back to ruin me.

The morning of 13th was beautiful, almost as beautiful as you; you missed the mark by a tad my darling, nothing to fret about. My mother and I woke up at dawn to feed our cattle and horses, and let the chickens out of the coop. I have her hair, but her locks were much more defined. It fell just past her shoulders, the golden light of the sunrise illuminated it. She would have adored your hair.

We always did our morning chores together, every morning. Little did I know that would be the last time I did so.

I remember that morning she told me,

"Lestie, sweetheart, we can stay home and bake an apple pie. Mrs. Chipper was nice enough to share some of her rations with us. The floral won't be the same, I'd hate for you to get disappointed."

If I believed in God, I would have said that was his way of giving me my last chance. I blew it.

"Mum, I want to go," I replied, and that was that.

We arrived at noon. My mother had opted for a blue dress and a cream petticoat. My father, Gilbert, was wearing his best suit. It was a light grey, with accents of blue. It complemented his grey eyes. Our grey eyes. I have his eyes, both in the sense that we are blind bats and the colour. The glasses I wear now are his, the only thing I managed to keep. My sisters, Stella and Aderyn, wore matching pastel yellow dresses with white tights peppered in polka dots. My brother, Levi, in his usual fashion, wore torn denim overalls with a stained white polo shirt beneath. 

My only regret regarding our relationship is that my family will never get to meet you, my love. You would have been the daughter-in-law my mother always dreamed of. One day you will be, even if my parents aren't here in the flesh to see it.

The day was fine, good actually. A pleasant refreshment from the dark days we had been trudging through, thanks to the war. We were talking to one of the ladies when the shots fired--I'd never heard a gunshot before. They had never invaded the countryside. The gunshots fired and fired, shrieks and screams filled my ears and in the chaos, Levi had run off somewhere. But when I looked around, I realized they weren't killing us. No, they were rounding us up. I ran through the crowd, crying, trying to find those yellow dresses, that cream petticoat, and that grey suit. I found my dad first.

He grabbed my shoulders and said,

"Muffin, I need you to run. Now. The twins and Levi left with Mrs. Chipper. Go back home, they won't touch Whilton. The trucks are full. Take care of them, I love you," and hugged me. I must have been in shock because I didn't hear the unspoken words.

They took your mother, and I'm staying with her.

I did as he said. I ran back home like the coward I was. I burst through the doors, Levi was pacing on the worn carpet and the twins were weeping in Mrs. Chipper's arms. I searched the room for dad and mum. I was so stupid for thinking they would be there, safe and sound.

"Where's mum and dad?" I asked Mrs. Chipper.

"Celestia - oh my darling. They took them, your father could have escaped but he wanted to stay with-"

I didn't hear the rest. I realized what I had done then. I had killed my parents and damned my family. All because I wanted to see a parody of a festival.

I did as my father told me. I took care of them for a year. Then, in May of '43, the letter came, that one male family member was to join the army. Levi was the only remaining one, but I couldn't let him do it. For about a dozen reasons. He deserved so much better than to become collateral damage, he's only thirteen.

So I put myself in his place. The office was in such chaos they didn't bother to check that Cedric Saxe did not exist. And here I am.

I dreaded every second of it and then you happened.

Now, I don't care where I am. As long as I'm by your side. And I won't let anything happen to you, I can't lose another loved one. So suck it up, and next time you're hurt, let me help you.

I'm sure your story is much nobler than mine. I'd love to share your burden,

If you'll let me.

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welcome to the first chapter of SWI!! wiki and i are both so so excited for this story :) let us know what you think in the comments! love you all

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