Page 57 - The Woven Tale Press Vol. IV #2

Invasion
My fingers don’t seem to work anymore. I look at Jane. “What’s wrong, Daddy?” she asks.
“Nothing, babe. Just...Just...” I say, and she clamps her tiny hands on my shaking ones, as if in prayer. They steady and I can see now. I see the future. It’s hers. It’s my duty to keep her alive.
I smile at Jane and stand. There’s strength in those eyes, they fill me with a quick, gilt-edged fury to live.
I lead them from the town. I know columns of black smoke rise slowly behind me.
Relocation: October 1939, Poland
Father stands with his back to the wind. The easterly wind has an edge on it that cuts into my bones and makes me gasp. Steam unfurls in ribbons from my mouth.
Father has the map in his left hand and the key in his right, as if weighing them. He looks up, and from under those furrows of silver hair, I see a haunt of guilt in his sparkling, intelligent eyes.
“Come,” he commands us and walks to the empty, cold house warm and full of life only hours before.
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