Wading Sorrows

By Shrija Roy

A cold breeze blew into the wading sorrow. Ragged boots tugged away the twisted pathway towards the wretched site, mottled was the journey, and not a word could help. Silence beckoned a fateful thread of despair; all was lost as they stepped into the ash-fallen house overlooking the meadow filled with only familiar faces. 

Hands trembling, a body flailed down beside the war result.

"Why didn't they tell us?" her cold voice echoed throughout, piercing the gloom prevailing air

"They wanted us to live Claire, so they didn't even let the war know us" he whispered, his draped, wet grey eyes softened, looking like London Street cobblestones glistening after a good rain.

Their faces donned scars that tore into the last bit of hope they had garnered.

The only witness of this morose reunion was the tarnished glint of the burnt house; compared to me who could only live vicariously through the siblings. 

I stood beside them, comprehending the scene, battling my greater senses as to what would be the comforting efficacy. But it wasn't a surprise to me that my biggest effort went into resisting the urge to fall to the ground and bury myself to see them for one last time. We weren't blood-related, but they were as good as my parents. 

Through everything I faced growing up, they took me in; took me into their home and made me a part of their clandestine gatherings, shaped my periphrastic personality and never let me feel left out, all while knowing my covert insecurities. Never would I have thought to see the day when death was the only thing greeting me with a Machiavellian grin.

When it seemed like eternities passed with the fallen, was when we heard the wretched cries. Grand showers of gunshots filled the sky and our last imprint memories shattered.

“We need to go, NOW!”

The blood-blazoned path led us to the woods, where the last ray of the sun licked the verdurous ground, before going dark. At the precipice of the afterglow, the engulfing darkness seemed more welcoming, when the excruciating realization hit me; We were alone now, we had nowhere to go. The dwindling roads would take our footsteps astray, away from the one place I could call home. Everything would change now.

By Shrija Roy