Happy Friday, everyone!
I hope you all had a fantastic week and are looking forward to an even more fantastic weekend.
Today, I'm introducing a new series on the blog called Fiction Fridays.
It's been quite some time since I've written much fiction, and even though I've got my first fiction novel in the works, I decided that I wanted to challenge myself to work on other little projects here and there as the novel unfolds.
Toward that tune, I decided that on the first Friday of each month, I would post a short little fiction piece, probably no more than 2000 words. These are all going to be stand alone pieces for the time being, though it's possible that one of them may develop into something more (maybe book number two?) at a later time. This is a way for me to play around with different characters, voices, points of view, time periods, scenarios, etc.
I hope you all enjoy this and feel free to join up and post your own little bits of fiction each month.
This month's piece is called "Coming Home." Enjoy!
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I remember these woods. I remember them well. But not like this. They weren't so...I don't know...sparse. So bare and haunted.
I played in them a lot when I as a kid. My brothers and me, well, we'd would go into the woods and play all sorts of games. We'd be out there from the moment we finished with our chores 'til Mama called us in for supper. The summer was the best time of year for playin' in the woods 'cause the sun stayed out longer, so Mama'd let us come back out after we finished supper. I think Mama especially liked summer for that reason. We were eager to help with the dishes in the kitchen 'cause we knew the faster we helped, the faster we could go back outside and play our game.
It's been three years since I saw these woods. There weren't so many charred trunks or stumps last time I was here. All of the trees stood tall, almost proud lookin'. Lots of 'em had a bunch of branches so you could climb them, even if you weren't tall. That's why my little sister, Rebecca, liked these woods. Even though Mama tried real hard to make Rebecca ladylike, there's just somethin' about havin' four brothers that makes them girls want to play with boys. Rebecca's fourteen now. She's seven years younger 'an me. There's two other brothers between us.
Whenever she caught Rebecca outside with us, I always got the stink eye from Mama. I don't really know why. It's not like I was the oldest. But Rebecca and me, we always had a special kind of bond. I couldn't explain it to you if I tried. We just connected. I always felt like I needed to protect her, more than my other brothers did, for some reason. She followed me around day and night from the moment she could walk. And as soon as she could talk, she was always askin' questions. We became friends real fast, Rebecca and me. So even though some older brothers might get pretty irritated with a little sister followin' them around all the time, I didn't mind.
That's why leavin' for the war was so hard. Sure, it was hard to leave Mama and Jacob and Dan. Papa and Adam and Paul were already off at the war. They'd all been there from the start and even though it'd been two years, somehow they were all still alive. Mama cried a lot in the days 'fore I left, but Rebecca, oh, she didn't cry. She was a strong one. Always has been. Having five brothers'll do that to a girl. I did real good not cryin' before I left, but that mornin', just as I was headin' off to the train station, I heard her call out my name.
"Isaac!" she shouted behind me. I turned and she was runnin' out the front door. She tripped on her skirt 'cause she forgot to hold it up while she was runnin' and fell flat on her face. I tried not to laugh, but I couldn't help it. When I helped her up, I saw she was laughin' too, but there was a tear rollin' down her cheek, too. It caught me by surprise. She’d always been so strong. Once she realized I could see she’d been cryin’, she was real quick to wipe that tear off her face.
“This is for you,” she said, shovin’ a kerchief in my hand. I looked at it and saw her initials. “Keep it for luck. And know that I’m always thinkin’ about you. You better come home. You got it?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. Even at eleven, she was already headstrong and confident. Whoever marries her will have his work cut out for him, but he’ll be real lucky, too.
“Got it,” I said. I put my hands on either side ‘a her head and kissed her forehead. “And you promise me that you’ll always be prayin’ that I come home. You got it?” She smiled.
“Of course.”
“Well, I gotta go.” It was at that moment that she lost it. She hugged me real tight and tears started rollin’ down her cheeks. I hadn’t seen her cry like that since she was just a little thing, maybe four or five. But she was cryin’ then and it made me want to cry, too. Dear God, please let me come home safe, I prayed, more for her than for me.
That was three years ago, back in 1862. I was only sixteen when the war started, so I couldn’t enlist or be drafted, but as soon as I turned eighteen, they called me up. I didn’t even have time to go down to the office and volunteer myself.
These last years have been real scary. I seen a lot a bad things. I watched a lot a my friends die. My big brother Paul lost his arm and Papa lost a leg. Me and Adam both made it out alright though. Jacob don’t turn eighteen ‘til next month, so he never got to join. I’ll bet he’s probably miffed about that, seeing as he asked Papa if he could fight when he was only thirteen. That request didn’t go over so well with Mama. She gave him such a good tongue lashing, I don’t think he could see straight for a week. Mama was always feisty like that. She’s real gentle most of the time, but boy, when she gets mad, she gets mad. That’s good though, I think. It keeps Papa and all us boys in line.
My feet are starting to hurt. I’ve been walkin’ for a while, but I keep pushin’ on ‘cause I know I’m almost home. It’s gettin’ to be almost dark. I was hopin’ to make it back by now, but it turns out your body don’t always do what you want it to do when you spent the last three years fightin’. But I’m startin’ to notice landmarks that tells me it’s just a bit closer ‘til I get through these woods and then I’ll see my house. Mama’s probably gettin’ supper ready right now and Rebecca’s helping. No doubt she’s complainin’ about how she hates skirts and cookin’ and she’d rather be outside doin’ somethin’ with the men, which means Mama’s probably tellin’ Rebecca to hush her mouth because it’s not ladylike and she’ll never get a husband talkin’ like that.
After a few more minutes a walkin’, I sit down on a rock and take a rest. I kept all my limbs, but I got some shrapnel in my left leg about a year and a half ago. The doctor’s got it out and I healed up pretty good, but it gave me a limp that I just can’t seem to shake. Some days it still hurts real bad. I didn’t tell Mama about it in my letters though. I know she woulda just gotten all scared over nothing.
My leg still hurts, but I keep walkin’ anyway. The way the light’s shinin’ through some of the trees, I can tell the sun’s startin’ to go down. I hurry on up and before I know it, I walk beyond the edge of the forest and there it is. My home. Just the way I remember it. Just the way I’ve dreamed about it over and over again. I stop for a moment and let it soak in. I’ve been hopin’ for this, prayin’ for this since I walked away three years ago. I reach into my pocket and pull out Rebecca’s kerchief. It’s tattered and dirty, but I kept it all these years.
I see Mama and Rebecca in the kitchen finishin’ up dinner, just as I suspected. I can hear Mama talkin’, but I can’t quite make out what she’s sayin’. Rebecca picks somethin’ up and disappears into the dining room. I keep walkin’ toward the house, smilin’ the whole way. Rebecca walks back into the kitchen and that’s when she sees me.
She screams and rushes out of the kitchen. I can see that Mama’s confused and frustrated, but then she looks out the window and her face lights up. The front door opens and there she comes, runnin’ out as fast as she can. She forgets to pick her skirt up and trips, but doesn’t fall flat on her face this time. Within seconds her arms are tight around my neck and I get a big ‘ole kiss on my cheek.
“You’re home! You’re home! You’re home!” she keeps shouting over and over again. Mama comes runnin’ outside and joins in the celebration. I look up to see Papa, Dan, and Benjamin standin’ on the porch. Papa’s got the biggest grin I ever seen on his face. Rebecca and Mama step back. They can’t stop smilin’ and tears are pourin’ down their cheeks.
I give Mama a kiss and a hug and put my arm around Rebecca. She looks up at me and smiles the biggest, most beautiful smile.
“You came home,” she says. “I told you I would,” I say.
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Hope you enjoyed it. I'd love to hear your thoughts. :)
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Photo Credit: Sam Howzit. Used under Creative Commons license permission.
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The post Fiction Fridays: Coming Home appeared first on Shades of Shayes.
