As we started to part our separate way to the village hall, a local post delievery boy called our names. " Hello, I have something for the Jones's." He handed mother a piece of paper, tears were brimming my eyes threatening to spill. NO! I thought. As mother opened it my heart was in my throat as if time had stopped for just this one moment. It can't be. Father only wrote to me yesterday, no. The paper read:
We are sorry to inform you. Sergeant Jonathan Henry Jones was killed in action, in South Africa fighting for queen and country. Our deepest condolences.
As the heartbroken sob erupted from mothers chest the telegram slowly began to fall as if it was a feather simply in the wind. A feather that held one emotion. Grief. The rain began to fall as we stood in the middle of the street feeling numb.
"Goodbye Father" I whispered up to the sky.
YOU ARE READING
The Visit
Historical FictionThe year is 1942 and the day is the 29th of June when tragedy strikes the Jones family. Find out the events leading up to this tragedy and how they cope after the aftermath of the visit.
