18 Apr Picture-Inspired Short Story
It was the first day of sunshine since Germany’s bombing over London, and Susan watched the blue skies mesmerized. She had been at her uncle’s house in the countryside for a few days now, the refuge to which her father had sent her along with her cousins. With the horrors unfolding and her hometown crumbling down under massive explosions, it had been a difficult week. Susan had heard from her uncle, John, that the German attacks had not yet ceased, but from his country home, a 16th-century mansion isolated somewhere among the green fields of Devonshire, there were no traces of war. The world seemed at peace.
Susan was lying on a bench by the house’s spacious green yard, watching the clouds and lost in reverie, when someone yelled her name:
“Hey, Susan.” Austin, her youngest cousin, ran toward her from the other side of the field, a meadow that gave way to a thin water stream whereby the boys liked to play. “Come and see this, we found a new territory on the other side of the river.”
“What do you mean territory?” Susan sat up straight and watched as Austin leaped to her side, breathless.
“That’s what Arthur said. It’s a new piece of land we’ve never explored, full of vegetation but with not a living soul to be seen around. Come, come, it’s all ours to play!” He waved and did not wait for her, speeding back to where he had come from.
Susan followed.
Arthur, Albert, and Austin were her three young cousins. They regulated in age, although, at 17, Susan was the oldest, and had spent many summers together at that same house. Back then, however, they were never allowed to venture far from the mansion’s extensive yards. With the war underway, the family feared that the three boys, Arthur in particular, might not escape deployment, and so, for the first time, the kids were not hampered from exploring the surrounding countryside. As Susan approached the stream, she could hear the boys’ laughter.
“Susan, Susan, you’re here!” Albert giggled as he splashed water on her dress.
“Hey, you peanut! Don’t ruin my outfit.” She smiled at him. “Show me your discovery.”
The boys crossed the stream and ran up the hill behind it. Susan tagged along, holding her skirt up so as not to trip. They halted at the top, and Albert pointed ahead:
“Check that out.”
At the bottom of that same hill, a vast green field emerged. Susan had never seen vegetation like it before, with tall, emerald weeds that shimmered and danced in the sun. Here and there, white flowers popped in between the grass.
“Oh, what a beautiful piece of land! How come we have never seen it before?” Susan was fascinated, a warm smile coloring her face for the first time in days.
“Dad never let us come this way,” Arthur muttered.
“But why?” Susan yelled, half laughing as they rolled downhill to play among the weeds. The leaves were so tall that they reached up to her waist.
Albert waited until they were standing in the middle of the field to answer.
“You have never heard the story, Susan?”
“What story?”
The three boys fell silent for a moment as if suddenly remembering something dreadful.
“Well, it’s probably not true…” Arthur brushed the tension away. “I think dad told it to keep us from venturing too far.” He glanced at his two brothers and then smiled perversely. “The story goes like this:
“Before meeting father, our mother was once engaged to a man called Pablo – a hero from the Great War who enjoyed hunting as a pastime. She was young and in love at first, but as the wedding date approached, things grew eerie. Pablo’s devotion to hunting was greater than his appreciation for mother. He would disappear for days and return almost empty-handed. She begged him to stay with her, but that made him grow agitated. She suspected he might be having an affair and, one evening asked for a servant to follow her fiancé. The man returned the following morning, awestruck, claiming he had followed Pablo to the countryside, somewhere near here since mother never left Devonshire, and disappear in the woods. The servant trailed behind, careful to keep a safe distance and not be seen until a horrible scream cut through the trees and made the night birds fly. The servant hid behind a large crevice and watched as Pablo dragged a woman by the hair toward a stream just like that one over the hill. The woman fidgeted and cried, her head covered by a sack and her hands tied. Silently, Pablo tortured the woman, and as he did, his eyes gleamed and a maniac smile covered his face. Starting at her fingers, he chopped her limbs and let her die slowly. The servant could not bear to watch anymore and ran at his full speed back to the house. Mother was petrified and, thanks to the servant’s help, managed to flee one night.”
Arthur trailed off, his face now gruesome in distress. Susan was horrified, her right hand covering her gaping mouth.
“But, of course, this is just a story uncle would tell.” She whispered, weakly.
“Ooh, Susan’s scared!” Albert laughed. “Come on, Artie, tell her the rest of it.”
Arthur frowned.
“Well, according to father, Pablo hunted mother for years, even after she had already married Father. They moved farther away and had guards watching the house day and night. Mother said that she would watch from her window and, every full moon, swore she could spot a shadow watching her from the fields. Apparently, one of the maids disappeared once as well, never again to be seen. It was after Albie was born that she stopped seeing that shadow, which she claims up to today was his.”
Susan gasped.
“So, it is true?”
“Of course not, Susie.” Arthur smiled and patted her shoulder. “You know how Father loves to be dramatic. He sometimes mixes his own war stories with the books he reads, so it sounds more real. But none of it is true.”
Susan sighed, relieved. She trusted Arthur’s word, but she also trusted her judgment, which told her the story sounded too fantastical to be true. They dropped the subject as Albert and Austin began running around the field, pretending to be warplanes that chased each other. Susan walked across the field, brushing all thoughts away from her mind.
She reached the center of the field and spun in circles, enjoying the fresh scent of grass and the feeling of its leaves grazing against her calves. She finally dropped to the ground, feeling dizzy and lighter. She started to pick a few weeds to take back to her room – perhaps she could attach them to her journal, and that would make a great entry. She fiddled around, looking for big, juicy leaves that could be ripped by the root when her hand touched something thick and cold that could not be part of that vegetation. It was small, soft and robust to the touch. She picked it up, and then froze, staring perplexedly at it for a second before letting out a loud, horrified scream.
She was holding a woman’s finger, unevenly chopped and covered in fresh blood.
Despite the misery of letting go of the happy moments that turned me and you into us, I knew at the moment you forgot me in the cold that I was no longer the first thing on your mind. I cried until I found my strength to leave you behind.
