Rebellion

The house was dark and still, and silent as a coffin. There would be no more laughter or play here now. The white bricks were stark as bone in the cold moonlight, its windows blank staring eyes and the door was crooked with decay. This place was home, but it is no longer. In the distance the thunder of cannon fire echoed like wild irreverent drums, the kind of sound to wake the dead.

The house stood on its own tall and old, overlooking the landscape that stretched out before it with the vast unblinking eyes of its great windows. Reflected in that gaze was the orange glow of war, fields cast ablaze with all the heat of hell and despite this, the interior of the house was as cold as death, so much so that its sole inhabitant glued himself to the hearth seeking to glean a measure of comfort from the last dying ember of warmth.

The cannon blasts had awoken him from his long slumber. Had it been months or years since the war began? He could no longer tell. He once had a house full of children, but they all left home to join the rebellion, fight for what they believed in. When he received letters from their commanding officers, his world had become cold. His house, his home was now a bleak monument to the price of war: Family.

The cannons rumbled their drumming beat again and again through the night, finally slowing down. And with the first kiss of sunlight over the horizon, the scorched earth still smoky was still and quiet with the coming of morning. The old man had fallen asleep next to the hearth. He stood up, dusting the ash from his long coat. There was a knock at the crooked door, a sound he had to be sure he had heard.

The crooked old door swung in, and a young man wearing a military uniform stepped inside. He was wane and thin, but tall and had soft brown eyes. He saw the old man sitting at the hearth and he approached him and said “Your son saved my life. I understand that you have lost more than most in this war, and that this is only a small comfort but your son was my hero.”

The young soldier stayed and talked for a long time. And for the first time in many months or years, there was a sound of laughter, a sound of family, echoing in the house.