14th February 1941
1500 hours.
Perhaps, Valentines Day wasn't so bad, the Captain actually had something to do today, planning and filling in the paper work. He'd always despised the thought of couples getting together and showing off for an entire day, let alone the few that weren't couples getting all lovely with each other.
He'd always seen this happen, every year without fail, it even happened last year when he was forced by some of the other soldiers to head into the village with them. This year however, it was different, he was alone in his office just as he had wanted. Him on his lonesome with the faint sound of the old gramophone only a few meters away.
He'd seen a few of the people downstairs earlier, when he'd gone to retrieve his under-done food, there wasn't exactly a name for it, it was hot and cold at the same time, it felt dry but looked wet and it felt light on the spoon but felt heavy in the mouth. Nothing made sense about it, not even the taste, but no-one questioned what it was and what it was made out of. No-one really wanted to find out. They were talking about what they were to do this evening, and just as usual, they were headed out to the local pub, to talk to whoever happened to be there at the same time as them.
Something strange the Captain did note though, was the absence of Havers, his second in command. He was normally hanging out with everyone else, chuckling on to a joke or telling stories with the others. He was more jolly than the Captain, went out more often as well, this didn't effect how hard he worked too, that was something the Captain could truly admire.
Another thing the Captain would be able to enjoy today was the view from the window, without all the unnecessary shouting he could normally hear. It was meant to be a full moon tonight, clear sky as well, he'd been counting the days and how many clouds went past, keeping track. He liked to be able to look outside to a few trees and an array of stars, it was calming. Especially with a book at his side, one of his favourites to read on nights like the upcoming one, was Alice in Wonderland.
1830 hours.
They'd all left now, the Captain was, what he thought to be, alone in an empty house. He took the time to relish in the silence, sitting down and pushing a pen against paper, waiting for the hours to fly by. It didn't take long for him to realise that time wasn't going as fast as he had hoped. It was actually quite slow, and all he'd done was sign six papers, and that was it. Normally, the Captain would feel ashamed of himself, instead he felt curious as to why, and a little bit worried.
He found still had a thick pile of papers, and then a stack of three books, one of which being his favourite. On instinct, he took it and sat in the armchair he'd moved to face the window, this window was large and paneled with wood and bolts of metal that had not yet rusted over. From observation, he could tell the panelling was quite new, probably installed just before the war started, or it was just metal that didn't rust. Either way, he was grateful that the window as a clean exterior, it gave a much better view of the outside.
Oh heavens, what is he doing?'' Fanny exclaimed, arms crossed with a furious expression plastered across her face. Her uptight hair was probably just as uptight as her personality, she was surrounded by two others, Thomas and Kitty,, those three had been watching the Captain for twenty minutes now. As far as Fanny knew, there was a war and he was fighting in it, she didn't know that it was a somewhat 'holiday' day. Those weren't exactly her thing, she preferred people to do as they should, fighting in his case.
''I think he's reading something? Thomas, Thomas, can you read it to me, please!'' Kitty was excited as she usually was, trying to peer over the Captains shoulder despite not being able to read herself. ''Please!'' This time a bit more aggressive, puling Thomas over to where the uniformed man sat, clueless as to what was happening around him.
''Kitty I can not bear having these sleeves ripped, please, let go at once, then I shall read what these pages say.'' The poet protested, trying to walk in the opposite direction. ''Your sleeves can not be ripped though, you are lying to me Thomas,'' on the verge of squealing her words. Fanny had covered her ears, not best pleased with the noise the two ghosts were creating.
