Soldier Boy (A short story)

        It is December 1945, only two months after I received the news. My family must evacuate from our home town in London as the bombs have gotten to be unbearable. We are moving to the countryside with father's cousin, much to my objections. Mother told me she thinks it will be good for me, taking me away from all the memories this town has left me with. She says it will give me a chance to heal.

        My mind was vacant as I helped my mother pack up the house. She chattered cheerfully as we packed the few remaining items into their boxes. I glared at her back as she turned to get the last cups from the cabinet, wondering how she could be so clueless to her daughters pain. Frustrated, I let out a quiet huff. My mother continued talking as if she didn't hear me. She's done that a lot since the death of my fiance, Andrew. I feel like she is trying to ignore that her daughter was broken into a thousand pieces by this pointless war. I threw a cup onto the floor, its glass pieces shattering. “Anna!” there it was. That voice that said how dare you act this way. I didn't respond, instead I stood quietly and walked out of the kitchen door and towards the woods.

        Tears streamed down my face as I walked out of the house, slowly breaking into a run. The trees passed me in a blur as my feet carried me to the only spot I truly felt comfortable. When I has finally stopped running I reached a small bubbling creek in the large meadow. Our meadow. Memories washed over me; our small talks on the porch, when we would play in the creek, his gorgeous blue eyes, his smile, the way he could make my day better with those three words. I lay myself on the ground, allowing the memories consume me as my tears became echoing sobs. As the sky became darker, my sobs subsided until I was just laying there cold tears on my face. When the stars covered the skies, I finally made a move to get up and walk slowly back to the house that held the people who were most shamed of me.

        When I woke it was morning and my back ached from sleeping on the cold floor all night. Today would be the day I left the town I lived in my whole life, the town that had given me the best thing that ever happened to me. I sighed heavily and climbed down the stairs to find my mother standing in the kitchen. She glanced up at me, the look in her eyes shined with disappointment. I had grown accustomed to this look, as it was one that was given to me often. My mother was disappointed that I allowed myself to fall apart with one simple letter. She had always raised me to be a strong, independant woman and was ashamed when I lost these qualities with Andrew. I had become constantly attached to his side. I was utterly devistated when he told me he was joining the forces to support Great Britian. But I was even more devistated when I recieved the letter telling me my fiance would never come home. My mother would never understand the loss I suffer.

 “Come along ladies! Got to get out of here! The early bird gets the worm I always say!”, My father came into the room, breaking the every lasting silence between my mother and I. Without looking at each other, we took our over-night bags  to the car.

As we drove through town I thought of Andrew and everything we did. We drove past a cafe that we always went to, and the street we laid in the middle of in the dead of night. I felt as if I was abandoning his memory by leaving. We had grown up together, his family and his home was here in England. He has gone and the very war he has been fighting for was destroying our home. I stared out the window, my mind blank and my eyes clouded with tears. A sight caught my attention as we passed through a round about. German prisoners were shackled together, their heads hung and their faces grim. The prison camp was something I had grown to turn from, but at this moment my eyes were glued to their every action. The sight of them, so glum and misserable, made my heart ache. They were only boys, Andrews age. This made me wonder if any of them had loving girls waiting to receive a letter, saying everything was okay and that they would be home soon. I wondered how many of those girls would receive letters, just like me, saying he would never come home. I leaned my head against the cold window and closed my eyes to stop the tears as the thought echoed in my mind. He would never come home.