Fallen Soldier

• Caitlin Indrawan, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2017

My heart tore at the thought of him.
Sitting on the porch, staring out into the front yard, remembering my father. When we used to play catch together, right until the very moment…
The atmosphere was tense. Pleading for my father to stay. For him to never leave me to go to the army. He took my hand and in my shaky palm, he lay a fragile statue of a soldier. The figure stood so delicate, almost as fragile as my heart in that point of time. The sight of the soldier in strict uniform, behind my father, knowing he was here to take him away made me tremble. Then the soldier fell from my damn hands that trembled like a leaf in a storm. It cracked into two pieces, right through the ankles of the soldier. My heart slammed against my chest. I looked up to my father who had devastation written across his face, but my attention was quickly changed to him being pulled away by the soldier. I hastily grabbed a piece and tossed it into his outreaching hand in the nick of time. The door slammed, blocking me and my mother from my father…
I was sitting back on the veranda, staring at the piece of statue I had left, the feet. They looked as if they were melted onto the rough, black bottom. As if they were trapped, no way out. Just like my father had been on the day he was taken. I still couldn’t believe that the soldier had broken, shattered in a matter of seconds. I didn’t know what I was thinking when I gave him the other piece; maybe the fact that I could somehow feel connected to him. It didn’t work. It was as stupid as thinking a pig could fly, all it did was remind me that he was gone. There was a loud shriek of shock from inside the house. I bolted in and saw my mother crying as if there was no tomorrow, on the ground violently tearing up a piece of paper. It was somehow, from looking at my mother's frightful eyes, that I knew what was written on that piece of paper. And it was definitely something I didn't want confirmed. What felt like a knife to my heart, was what I read on my mother's lips,
“he’s gone,”
My heart tore at the thought of him.