The rising wail of the air raid siren permeated the air. Once again, the nightly storm of death and destruction was about to begin. The ethereal cry made her cringe inwardly, knowing that, come morning, some would not be awakening with the renewing light of the sun.
That sound was a harbinger of death. An appropriate sound, seeming itself a dirge, both for the men who fought and died in the skies above, and for those trapped beneath the rain of lethal metal.
Swiftly, she closed the novel she had been reading, taking time only to mark her place, then dimmed the nearby lamp to a feeble glow. Rising from her comfortable chair, she performed a final check of the thick blackout curtains, ensuring no guiding beacon would leak out to incur wrath from above.
Her eyes fell upon the front door. Unlocked, as it should be. He might have forgotten his key again. Why lock a door that only one would walk through at a time such as this?
Snatching the woollen blanket from her chair, she hurried towards the basement door. It tended to be chilly if one sat down there for long. She paused, her hand on the doorknob, drawing a steadying breath as she looked at the clock.
'
Half past seven. Where are you my sweet? Please be safe my darling. Come home.'
If only she had time for a soothing cup of tea. But no, not worth the risk of waiting any longer.
A muffled explosion, far in the distance, cut through the warning shriek, spurring her feet into motion again. She had to move, there was no more time. The barrage had started.
Belatedly, she realized she had forgotten her slippers, her bare soles prickling as they moved from braided carpet to the smooth bare wood of the stairs. Where had she left them? By their bed, of course, she had taken them off for her bath, and neglected to put them back on.
'
How foolish.'
He would likely smile and chastise her forgetfulness. Of course, the words would have no real bite, softened by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes as he smiled, the gentle hazel orbs oh-so-warm with affection...
At least she had the blanket. No time to risk going back up for the footwear, even with the explosions still far away. The simple act of hiding in the cellar until the storm had passed was a wise precaution, one drilled into the populace by a wave of radio advertisements.
Reaching the bottom of the dim stairwell, she brightened the small desk light in the corner. No windows down here to worry about, and the sight of the shadows shrinking back to lick their wounds was comforting. No replacement for having him here with her though...
"
Don't fear for me my love,"
he always said, holding her in his strong arms.
"I will be home the very second I can."
An impossible task. Might as well ask her to lift their flat upon her narrow shoulders. Why must he stay so late? She knew there needed to be those willing to quench the erupting fires, but... Did he really
have
to be one? Must he stay past the call of his duty? She needed him too...
The radio released a loud popping click and brief hiss of static as she turned it on, before the device fixed onto its attuned channel. Perhaps some music would serve in place of the tea.
"...
mber, loose lips sink ships!"
The trailing interlude faded into the lilting sounds of Schoenberg's violins, the melody pirouetting its way through the air like a prima ballerina.
She quickly relocated herself to the sturdy chair in the corner, the one he had so carefully positioned under the strongest support beams, huddling up to bring her already chilled feet away from the icy cement.
This piece had such a haunting, pensive feel. The swelling highs, the crashing lows, gathering around her in stanza after stanza. An almost mournful tune, fitting in its own right, much like the siren's call. She closed her eyes, opening her soul to allow the music in. It inspired thoughts of days gone by...
____
She swung her legs back and forth, pointing her toes to scuff the tufts of grass beneath the bench. The idle kick knocked loose a dandelion, sending scores of tiny, hopeful seeds wafting into the gentle breeze, like a flight of busy fairies.
The sun gleamed off of her pretty white dress, the one she had begged and pleaded mommy for. She had been forced to wait for her birthday, but even though it had seemed an eternity, it had still been a delight to open the package and try it on for the first time. She loved the way it swished when she moved, and how the ruffles fell so perfectly around her scrawny shoulders, hiding her knobbly elbows and knees better than any of her other dresses.
Mrs. Anderson had tried to get her to come play jump-rope and ring-around-the-rosy with the other girls, but she liked it over here better. She didn't like those games. The other girls would just laugh when she tripped over her too-large feet. Besides, the flowers over here were so pretty, joyously stretching their colourful blooms towards the smiling sun.
She took another bite of her sandwich, all the crusts perfectly removed, smiling to herself as she watched an industrious bee fumble its way from petal to petal.
Her ears suddenly caught the sound of approaching voices, punctuated by the occasional boyish laugh.
"And when I grow up, I'm going to join the army like my dad!" one of them said confidently.
She scrunched a bit lower in her seat, looking down at her shoes. Danny. Maybe, if she was quiet, the fox and his cronies wouldn't notice her.
Cronies, that was a fun word. Mommy had used that one awhile ago.
She slowly took another nibble, the peanut butter suddenly seeming a bit stickier than it should, trying to make herself as small as possible. The sound of a ball being kicked between boys was punctuated by the odd comment or hoot. They were almost right behind her now.
"Yeah Danny, and-"
"Hey!" Danny's call cut off the other speaker.
There was a moment of silence, with some barely audible murmurs and chuckles, then...
"Rotten eggs, sausage links, everyone knows that Rachel stinks!"
The flowers didn't seem quite so pretty anymore. She bowed her head, doing her best to ignore their hoots and laughs, just like mommy had said. Why did they always pick her?
Another bout of mutters and giggles, before a second taunting shout.
"Here you go fart face, a toothpick for the gap in your teeth!"
A stick came sailing past her vision, landing in her lap with cruelly perfect accuracy. Her eyes flew wide as she registered the eight legged bug clinging for dear life to the end of the stick. She immediately leaped up with a shriek, frantically beating her dress to remove the thing, smearing the dark smudges the dirty wood left on her dress, her half-eaten sandwich flying away to land in the flowerbed.
It was too much. Her dress. The spider. The insults. Her sandwich. She couldn't stop the flow of tears, a halting sob wrenched from her lungs. How had he even found out how much she hated spiders?
Her tears only served to increase their merriment, the gang chortling with glee and congratulations as they ran off, booting their ball along in front of them.
She collapsed back into her seat, sniffling as the surely equally frightened insect scurried off into the grass. The colours of the flowerbed blurred as more tears leaked out. Stupid Danny. All of them, stupid. Now she would be hungry during class too.
A shadow fell across her, the lower light hiding the contrast between stark white ruffles and muddy stains.
She didn't look up. "J-just g-go away!"
The shadow didn't move, a hairy hand reaching out and holding... half a sandwich?
She continued to sniffle, her eyes widening a bit as she stared at the offering uncomprehendingly, the flow of tears slowing to a trickle.
She looked up finally, gaze travelling up a wide, overalls covered chest, to meet a pair of sad-looking brown eyes, small and set back behind a massive nose and two tiny tusks. Short, nearly black, bristly looking hair covered all but the tip of that wide, flat nose. The boy who sat in the back of class? What was his name again? The boar didn't usually run around with the other boys, but why was he-
"Please, take it."
Hesitantly, she reached out and took the gift (also with crusts perfectly cut away), her fingers brushing against the coarse fur on the back of his hand briefly.
She stared at him for a moment, her mouth forming a questioning O as she tried to find words.
He looked down, scuffing his feet, his nostrils quivering a little. "I... I think you're pretty!"
Immediately following his proclamation, he turned on his heel and ran, head down, without looking back.
She followed him with her eyes, watching until he disappeared around the corner of the school, attempting to understand what had just transpired. The last, lone remnant of her tears dripped off her chin, the single shimmering droplet landing dead centre on the bread.
He thought she was pretty?
____
She shuddered as one explosion immediately followed another, the muffled blasts sounding considerably closer, nearly drowning out the last strains of Schoenberg. A gas line perhaps? If so, that would cause a fire for sure. The sound of someone's life ripping apart in an instant.
One of the bombers must have been chased this way, they were some distance from the favourite targets. Not that it mattered. They would drop their death wherever they could.
'
Please come home my love! I need you here.'
Perhaps she was selfish, but she didn't care. He already did so much, couldn't he let others take some of the burden? To be with her?
