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• Yiru Li, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2022

He crouched in the shadow of the trees, blending in with the darkness. Spinning a pen in one hand, he gazed at the paper in his lap and began to write, pouring his emotions onto the paper in the form of words.


Dear Soph,

Home seems so far away right now. This war has been going on for years, but still shows no signs of ending soon. We have to rely purely on our instincts and luck. I hope that I can still come home.

Please give Annie and Ollie my love. I’ll write to you later.

Joseph


She stood in the kitchen, one hand clutching the letter. Her eyes skimmed through the message. Placing the pen to a sheet of paper, she started to write, the ink emblazoning itself to the surface.


Dear Joseph,

Don’t worry. Home will always be here, waiting for you to come. I’m safe here, but it doesn’t seem full. The children miss you. They’re becoming restless, asking when you’ll come home. Please come back soon. It isn’t home without you.

Sophia


He held the letter in his hands, sitting under the same tree that had been his saviour for weeks. Writing fervently, he barely heard the raging fortissimo of the war. The pen moved across the surface, staining it dark with words, not knowing it would be his final letter.


Dear Soph,

Right now, home doesn't seem to exist. The war is at its peak. The chances don’t look good. I fear Death has sided with them. How is it at home? Hope you are all okay.

Joseph.


The letter never arrived.

Placing a poppy down on her husband’s grave, she closed her eyes sadly. He would never come home again.
“Mummy, when is Daddy coming home?” The sweet sound of her children’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She smiled sadly at her children, innocent and free from the heavy burden she carried.
“Look up. See the stars up there? Your dad is waiting for us there,” she whispered softly whilst pointing to the night sky.
And she knew it was true. She knew her husband had finally found peace. Found joy. Found home.