A Widower's Worry

• Jesse Zborovsky, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2018

“Bang, Bang” A loud thumping on the front door startled the woman living inside. The thin, rotten door swung loudly on its rusty hinges, the creaky transversed the small slum-like dwelling. A middle-aged lady appeared at the door, her face tired and visibly exhausted. As she stood in the doorway whisking a bowl of batter she looked up at the two men standing in the doorway. “What do you want?” Agitated she asked them hastily, unimpressed with their presence.

One of the men dressed in dark uniform stepped forward to address the woman.”Hello,” He paused and searched his clipboard for some information. “Ms… Walters is it?”

“Yes, what do you want!” Ms. Walters replied urging an immediate response.

“We are the conscription service, ma’am we’re here for John, we’re here for your son.” For a few moments there was an awkward silence filled with hostile stares from the enraged woman. The men staggered backwards in anticipation of an attack.

“Crash!” She through the ceramic bowl to the ground shattering it into millions of pieces across the floor. She stared at the men her eye twitching from extreme anger. “You can’t take my son!… He’s all I have left.” Ms. Walters yelled at the men, superfluously swinging her arms at them as she began to cry. Her body slumped and she grasped one of the men as she slowly fell to the ground. Her facial expression had changed from one of anger to sorrow, her face pale as lumps of clay. There she lay crying loudly, knees on the floor, head in her hands and her mind engulfed by a lifetime of pain.

For hours she reminisced of old times, times before the war, where the family she loved so dearly was not just a distant memory. Even of boring times when they just sat together in their company, that security and the feeling of love is what she missed the most, a feeling she knew she could never have. Alas those days have passed, the war had taken her husband and now her only son

“Hi honey, I need to talk to you.” Ms. Walters sincerely spoke, at first startling her son.

“Ok?” John said wearily and confused. He walked into the living room where his mum sat on a couch waiting for him. She tapped the seat next to her urging him to sit down. John walked over slowly, he knew he hadn’t done anything bad so he was trying hard to fathom what was about to happen.

“Some men came to the house today…” She spoke softly and nervous, concerning John for her wellbeing. “They were from the army, they said you have to fight.” As the sentence went on her voice began to fade and as she looked deep into her son's brown eyes she couldn’t help but cry. A silence filled the room as they embraced each other for a long and meaningful hug.