“Was this the mail you were reading?” the young lieutenant passed a letter to Henry.
“Thank you,” Henry took it and wondered if he was expected to salute the lieutenant
The lieutenant hesitated, “I found this under the wires. It probably fell from your pocket.” Henry looked at the bruises in the lieutenant’s hands where the barbed wires had cut him. He took the crumpled photo of his girlfriend. “Thank you,” he said, quietly.
The lieutenant saluted him and walked away. Henry stared at his back, then walked back to his tent to join the other prisoners of war.
This was written for the Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction Challenge. In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes a sugar report. Use its original meaning of a letter from a sweetheart to a soldier, or invent a new use for it. Go where the prompt leads!
“Wait here. I will be back,” he told me as he walked inside the house, coughing. He stumbled and I heard a loud crash. I wanted to check on him, but he had asked me to wait. I heard a voice sobbing softly. People came and left, wooden-faced. That evening, I smelled lilies and heard the wail of terrifying silence. Everyone from his house came out, except him. I knew where he was kept. Should I follow him? But, he had said he would be back. I waited in the garden, amongst the daisies. He always kept his word.
Lucy woke up, optimistic, knowing that something was about to change. She ran down the street when she heard the postman’s bike a couple of streets away. A letter from her wayward son! The postman looked at the 90-year old Lucy jumping up and down and realized that his efforts had been worth it. He had braved the storm, the governmental warnings, and a pickpocket to reach his destination. He smiled at Lucy. At this, Lucy became self-conscious and looked angrily at the postman. The grinning dumbo! After all, how would this man know how important her letter was!
Peter turned off the alarm clock in haste. It was 9. In 15 minutes, he was in the living room, ready for office. However, there was no sign of breakfast. “Maisy, where is my breakfast?” She stared at him and turned away. Peter had slapped her yesterday and she was acting up. The next day was the same and so was the next. If he made extra food, meaning to save some for the night, she ate everything. Anger rose in him, but he thought of its consequences. “Maisy,” he began in a low voice, “I am extremely sorry.”
Meghan stood at the entrance of the church looking at the white flowers which had begun to wither prematurely. Her husband, egged on by his friends, had carried her down the steps. They had been together for a month when he was called away to the sea. He described the calm and stormy waters in detail, calling the sea his mother and best friend. Although a little sad, he was highly excited when called away to the sea. “I am going home”, he had told her. Meghan adjusted her black veil as she went in to attend the service.
Meghan smiled at the colourful flowers and wondered if he would carry her down the steps or would be too tired to do so. Her fiancé had been called to the sea after their engagement. She thought about the fierce storm and six months of fear, wondering if he would come back. However, he was never in any doubt. He had called the sea his mother and best friend. His faith had been rewarded and he returned home, cherishing life and his loved ones. Meghan adjusted her white veil and took her dad’s arm as she entered the church.
“I want to thank my parents for encouraging me.” Cheryl’s eyes scanned the nooks and corners as she spoke what she had memorized before the concert. “A special thanks to my music teacher…” Aunt Thelma was huddled in a corner, her eyes shining. She had taken Cheryl to her piano lessons every alternate day, learned piano for her and practiced with her. But, there was no mention of her in the speech prepared by her dad and supervised by her mom. “Thank you, Aunt Thelma” whispered Cheryl. Thelma could not hide her tear-streaked cheeks and a subtle, victorious smile.