Hidden Memories & Unkept Promises
Prologue
Jackie sat alone in her empty house, wishing she'd taken her husband's advice and left the capitol before the war had progressed. It was too late to leave now, the fighting had reached the capitol city, despite everyone's arguments that it was too strong and fortified for the Potomac Army to reach. If they'd attacked the secure capitol, it wouldn't be long before they won the war and took control of Corsica.
Jackie sat at the window, staring out at the oncoming storm and listening to the steady pounding of distant gunfire. She held in her hand the last letter her husband had written to her. It was dated September 3rd, exactly two weeks ago. He was out there somewhere, taking part in this chaotic fight. All she could do was reassure herself that he would come home.
She sat at the window for some time, too afraid to do anything else. It was because she was sitting at that window, on that day, at that time, that she saw a little girl running out of the dark forest in fear. She watched her trip and fall, and remain lying on the muddy ground in the pouring rain. Jackie waited, watching to see if the girl would get up, or if she was with someone else, but she stayed where she was, and no one else came.
Jackie was a kind hearted woman, she could not bear to leave a little girl all alone in the middle of a storm, especially on a day like this one.
She found her jacket, and after hesitating a moment in reluctance to get wet, she walked over to her.
"Let me go! Please!" the girl screamed as she heard her approach. "Just let me go!" Then she stopped herself from screaming again. "No, no I can't be afraid." she whispered. "I promised."
Jackie knelt beside her, noticing that in her arms she held a sword. "You don't need to be afraid." she said gently. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The girl looked up at her for the first time, the fear in her eyes slowly fading.
"Come on," Jackie said, picking her up. "No need to be sitting out in the rain."
She walked her over and sat her down on the porch, where she sat next to her to question her further.
"Are you all alone out here?" she asked.
Jackie quickly regretted the question, for as soon as the girl heard it she looked as though she wanted to cry. She closed her eyes and held the sword to her chest before she looked to Jackie again and answered the question. "Yes."
Jackie looked at her sword and reached out to take it, but she pulled it away.
"I just want to look at it," she said. "You'll get it back, I promise."
However hesitantly, the girl handed over her sword, keeping her eyes on it the whole time Jackie had it. Jackie looked it over, noticing the bloodstains on the blade but deciding not to question them at the moment. It was an old sword, judging by the dents and scratches it had, but it was well made and very lovely. Just above the base the initials AS were engraved in soft curving lettering.
She handed it back to the girl. "Forgive me, my dear, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My names Jaclyn Webster, though you may call me Jackie." The girl just stared at her blankly, and so Jackie went on to ask her another question.
"And what is your name?" she asked.
"Andra." the girl said quietly.
"Well Andra, what are you doing out here in these woods all alone, on today of all days?"
Just as before she suddenly looked as though she could cry, but also just as before she did not let herself. "I was running." she said. "The bad people, they were after us, we had to run."
"Who?" Jackie asked. "You and who else?"
The girl gave her a quizzical look, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world, but she eventually answered. "Mother and father." she said.
"And what happened to them?"
This question was the one that evoked the tears she'd tried so hard to hold back. She at first tried to fight it but quickly gave up and threw herself upon Jackie, wrapping her arms around her neck and burying her face in her shoulder.
Jackie acted in a motherly fashion, picking her up and carrying her inside. She sat down on the sofa, the child still in her arms, and held her tight, whispering words of comfort until she finally calmed down.
At last the girl calmed down enough to answer the question. "They weren't fast enough." She said.
"Oh you poor thing." Jackie whispered.
That poor little girl was me.
Jackie sat at the window, staring out at the oncoming storm and listening to the steady pounding of distant gunfire. She held in her hand the last letter her husband had written to her. It was dated September 3rd, exactly two weeks ago. He was out there somewhere, taking part in this chaotic fight. All she could do was reassure herself that he would come home.
She sat at the window for some time, too afraid to do anything else. It was because she was sitting at that window, on that day, at that time, that she saw a little girl running out of the dark forest in fear. She watched her trip and fall, and remain lying on the muddy ground in the pouring rain. Jackie waited, watching to see if the girl would get up, or if she was with someone else, but she stayed where she was, and no one else came.
Jackie was a kind hearted woman, she could not bear to leave a little girl all alone in the middle of a storm, especially on a day like this one.
She found her jacket, and after hesitating a moment in reluctance to get wet, she walked over to her.
"Let me go! Please!" the girl screamed as she heard her approach. "Just let me go!" Then she stopped herself from screaming again. "No, no I can't be afraid." she whispered. "I promised."
Jackie knelt beside her, noticing that in her arms she held a sword. "You don't need to be afraid." she said gently. "I'm not going to hurt you."
The girl looked up at her for the first time, the fear in her eyes slowly fading.
"Come on," Jackie said, picking her up. "No need to be sitting out in the rain."
She walked her over and sat her down on the porch, where she sat next to her to question her further.
"Are you all alone out here?" she asked.
Jackie quickly regretted the question, for as soon as the girl heard it she looked as though she wanted to cry. She closed her eyes and held the sword to her chest before she looked to Jackie again and answered the question. "Yes."
Jackie looked at her sword and reached out to take it, but she pulled it away.
"I just want to look at it," she said. "You'll get it back, I promise."
However hesitantly, the girl handed over her sword, keeping her eyes on it the whole time Jackie had it. Jackie looked it over, noticing the bloodstains on the blade but deciding not to question them at the moment. It was an old sword, judging by the dents and scratches it had, but it was well made and very lovely. Just above the base the initials AS were engraved in soft curving lettering.
She handed it back to the girl. "Forgive me, my dear, I don't believe I've introduced myself. My names Jaclyn Webster, though you may call me Jackie." The girl just stared at her blankly, and so Jackie went on to ask her another question.
"And what is your name?" she asked.
"Andra." the girl said quietly.
"Well Andra, what are you doing out here in these woods all alone, on today of all days?"
Just as before she suddenly looked as though she could cry, but also just as before she did not let herself. "I was running." she said. "The bad people, they were after us, we had to run."
"Who?" Jackie asked. "You and who else?"
The girl gave her a quizzical look, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world, but she eventually answered. "Mother and father." she said.
"And what happened to them?"
This question was the one that evoked the tears she'd tried so hard to hold back. She at first tried to fight it but quickly gave up and threw herself upon Jackie, wrapping her arms around her neck and burying her face in her shoulder.
Jackie acted in a motherly fashion, picking her up and carrying her inside. She sat down on the sofa, the child still in her arms, and held her tight, whispering words of comfort until she finally calmed down.
At last the girl calmed down enough to answer the question. "They weren't fast enough." She said.
"Oh you poor thing." Jackie whispered.
That poor little girl was me.