Out of Darkness
white envelope
She smiled as she listened the fast talking coming from a lanky boy next to her. Often more she enjoyed his ramblings, but there was something in his voice, so cold and distant. He had a secret.
When he was four, his father had gone into a war. Ever since that day his family has been awaiting for that dreadful blue envelope. But, it never came. Not even when the war ended and survived soldiers were coming home to their families. Not even sixteen years later.
Every night was a torture for him. He dreamt of his father coming home. He would wake up in tears, sad that is was just a dream, ashamed that he was actually crying.
But the dreams of his father walking up to him, blood on his face, no arms and blindfolded were the ones that made him cry the hardest. And not be ashamed of doing so.
He would scream and kick in his sleep, waking up the sleeping girl next to him, sheets sliding down like autumn leaves falling from the trees. And he cried in her arms, trembling from recurring nightmares and chill breeze coming from an open window in bedroom.
Night after night, the vision of his father bloody became more realistic. Night after night, he would hear his voice telling him something, whispering at first. Words he couldn’t comprehend, but deep down he knew what they were.
“Wake up, Marko, it’s not worth it. Just wake up.”
He opened his eyes. He was alone in his bed, the sheets crumpled by the bed leg. He looked at the soft blanket near his slippers and smiled. Not an average ‘ha-ha’ smile, more like an ironic one. Like the one when you are aware of the ridiculous consequences of something that is not as nearly as ridiculous. Like the coldness from the bedroom air on your body, when the sheets are just at your reach.
His toes were numb; the hairs on his legs and arms rose up.
But he didn’t care about the coldness.
The bed shifted as the weight was put on the side of it.
“What happened?” a small voice whispered picking up the sheets and placing them over his legs.
“It was different this time. He told me not to worry.”
“He’s right. You can’t live like this anymore. The dreams are getting to you Marko.”
“Stay with me tonight, please?” he said locking eyes with another pair of dark orbs.
“Only if you promise me not to kick the sheets off,” she teased.
“I can only wish.”
The next morning the letter came. The white envelope that implied the good news.
When he was four, his father had gone into a war. Ever since that day his family has been awaiting for that dreadful blue envelope. But, it never came. Not even when the war ended and survived soldiers were coming home to their families. Not even sixteen years later.
Every night was a torture for him. He dreamt of his father coming home. He would wake up in tears, sad that is was just a dream, ashamed that he was actually crying.
But the dreams of his father walking up to him, blood on his face, no arms and blindfolded were the ones that made him cry the hardest. And not be ashamed of doing so.
He would scream and kick in his sleep, waking up the sleeping girl next to him, sheets sliding down like autumn leaves falling from the trees. And he cried in her arms, trembling from recurring nightmares and chill breeze coming from an open window in bedroom.
Night after night, the vision of his father bloody became more realistic. Night after night, he would hear his voice telling him something, whispering at first. Words he couldn’t comprehend, but deep down he knew what they were.
“Wake up, Marko, it’s not worth it. Just wake up.”
He opened his eyes. He was alone in his bed, the sheets crumpled by the bed leg. He looked at the soft blanket near his slippers and smiled. Not an average ‘ha-ha’ smile, more like an ironic one. Like the one when you are aware of the ridiculous consequences of something that is not as nearly as ridiculous. Like the coldness from the bedroom air on your body, when the sheets are just at your reach.
His toes were numb; the hairs on his legs and arms rose up.
But he didn’t care about the coldness.
The bed shifted as the weight was put on the side of it.
“What happened?” a small voice whispered picking up the sheets and placing them over his legs.
“It was different this time. He told me not to worry.”
“He’s right. You can’t live like this anymore. The dreams are getting to you Marko.”
“Stay with me tonight, please?” he said locking eyes with another pair of dark orbs.
“Only if you promise me not to kick the sheets off,” she teased.
“I can only wish.”
The next morning the letter came. The white envelope that implied the good news.