Sister of a Solider

Stepping out of her home, being careful to make sure it was locked. She stood on her doorstep for a second, to adjust her outfit just to make sure everything was where it should be, no one wanted to go out with a crooked shawl.

Stepping down, she began her walk down the street. Everyday, at exactly one in the afternoon, she would walk in the same direction, to the same destination.

Being wary of the bits of rubble, and the large potholes, still unrepaired from the glorious revolution. She placed each step carefully, in hopes that she wouldn't trip over something. That would've been humiliating.

It was displeasing that there was hardly any repairs done on the streets, but alas, the lower class weren't as important compared to the higher ups. They couldn't care less of the street conditions that everyone has had to face.

There were many carriage accidents now, more then ever before. At times, she had heard the crunch and bang at carriages slamming into each other, and tipping over. She would hear the horses screams as they were unable to be freed from their bonds to escape. The worst of times was when she heard the cry of an infant.

Of course, in the daytime there were still accidents, just not as gruesome. The most horrendous of accidents always were to happen at night. Since the darkness clouded the coachmen from seeing the obstacles, and each other.

Recently, the streets had been less busy. The one city that was full of life, with people rushing about, enjoying life as much as they could. The celebrations of the victories, the gossip of Napoleons tactics to face England, everything in general, had just died. After hearing of the defeat in Russia, and how Napoleon had abandoned his army to die.

It was almost as if the city died with the soldiers in the cold. All who she saw on the streets looked like walking corpses. Grim expressions on their face, many were dressed in all black, to mourn their husband's, brother's, son's, uncle's, father's, or cousin's death. She hoped that she didn't completely become like those walking about.

Most of the citizens had bowed their heads down, in respect of all those who sacrificed their lives, and only having them wasted to defeat. However, she couldn't help thinking that they had bowed their heads because the streets were filled with such wonders no one else saw, and they couldn't look away.

She was still a child at heart, making humor of a most dreadful situation.

She could tell that some had blamed themselves for the death of their family member. A mother bickering with her son on how he must make something of his life, sending him to war to gain honour from him when he returns a war hero. Instead, gaining nothing but the loss of a preventable death.

A newly widowed wife, covering her face with a simple black veil, walking at a quickened pace when she passed a place where she had met the love of her life that was taken from her due to war. The widow thought, that if she hadn't been so greedy, wanting him to go and gain a higher ranking so that she could have nicer things.

She pitied the mother, and the wife. Hoping that she would not end up like them in the future.

Someone shoved her, another cut her off, almost causing her to trip over a piece of road sticking out of the ground. She shot a glare at the one who had done such a rude thing, to a girl nonetheless! But alas, the rude stranger had already disappeared in rush to reach their own destination.

She brushed herself off out of habit, even though she had not fallen. Picking up her pace, kept walking. Today was the day where they had hoped to celebrate another victory. She remembered visiting the bakers where they were preparing ingredients to make cakes for those wanting to buy a desert to celebrate the victorious return with their relative.