~✽~
1 Month Later:
-Diana Fletcher-
It's been about a month now, since we moved to Poland, in hopes of finding mom. Life seems to be nothing but a dull routine. Any free time that I end up having, is spent toiling over the old dining table by a lamplight, making flyers and posters- the whole town is covered in them. It would seem as if all our days of effort were spent futilely.
If it's only been a month, and we've become so discouraged, how could we possibly hope to find her? It would be a cruel, twisted fate, if we never were to find her, but we pushed forward in defiance of any logical reasoning, and hoped for the best.
Yeah, we're going nowhere.
Recently, dad has started taking us out with him on his searches, whenever I don't have school, that is. Once me and Nico actually went out into the open, and put ourselves in dad's shoes, we got to see how hard and exhausting his job is. It was like finding a needle in a haystack, only this was a pretty big 'haystack' to cover. We would meet various people, randomly stop someone on the road, and hang up missing person posters in every nook and cranny.
Over the past month, dad had covered a lot of ground, and marked it out on a thin, crumpled up paper map for references. For a while it seemed as if we were making an immense deal of progress, until a huge chunk of our allotted time was cut short, as dad had to find work in the area. We couldn't risk our savings drying up on us, especially in a time of need. So now we move, ever-so-slowly, but still with determination. Losing hope would do us no good. Thousands of people looking for their loved gone astray after the war had already given up, long ago, probably expecting them to have fallen victim to an explosion of gun fire.
The city was still ridden with the screams and cries of that dark time.
-Nicholas Fletcher-
I lay sprawled across the large, musty, old sofa in the living room, my eyes concentrated on the ceiling, as the room's lights almost blind me. This is basically all I can do. Just lie here and pray for a miracle.
You ever have those days when you feel like an utterly, useless loser? Yeah well- I feel you. My baby sister is contributing way more than I am, and although I'm pretty proud of her, I feel like nothing but a talentless twat. Dad and Di think so too, but they probably just feel way too sorry for me to say it to my face. To top it all off, Di walked in, stopped, and stared at me with a look that basically spelt 'what a lazy dimwit.'
Thanks sis.
So you're probably wondering why I'm being so melodramatic. I'll tell you. Throughout the entire time that the others keep working, I haven't been able to do anything for mom. It's not that I don't want to, it's that I can't. I'm not artistically gifted like Di. The only things I'm decent at are studies, and basketball, and I don't see how being able to successfully shoot the ball through the hoop from behind the three-point line with my eyes closed, can help in this situation. Dad won't let me go out and search all by myself- and he's at work. At the rate we're headed now we may never find her. I hated feeling so powerless. In fact, I loathed it. I just want to find mom, and get this over with, so we can all go home together.
I hurtled myself off the saggy couch, and peered into the tall grandfather clock by the window, calculating how many hours dad had until his work was over. So far, he had been doing menial jobs every now and then, for a light income, but now he's started to work with the city constructors in the far end of town, where there are still some small places that show signs of the war. The clock stood there dolefully, ticking away at me, making me note each precious second that was wasting away.
