When nothing else is left but hope
The gentle glow of the morning sun filtered through the
moth-eaten curtains, dancing across Anna’s face and causing her to sneeze. She
reached out lazily, pulling the covers up to her chin savoring the warmth that
enveloped her. For a blissful moment, she allowed herself to let go of all
worries and simply bask in the comfort of her bed. But as the outside world
began to creep in, reality nudged at her perfect moment, threatening to shatter
it with its demands.
***
Before the war, they lived in a comfortable two-story house
in bustling Budapest. Michael, with his strong build, worked as a railroad
engineer while Anna, petite yet fierce, was employed as a skilled seamstress.
Together they raised two bright and lively children - Sammy, a curious
six-year-old with sandy blonde hair, and Barbara, a sweet four-year-old with
big blue eyes. But then, their idyllic life shattered. Michael was called to
serve, and Anna spent her days hiding in the musty basement with their children,
never knowing if each passing moment could be their last. The once vibrant city
was now a shadow of its former self, fear and uncertainty filling every corner.
The grueling months of trying to stay alive took a toll on
everyone. Looters quickly emptied the stores, offering food for jewelry and
other valuables. The once friendly and helpful neighbors didn’t care for others
anymore; they fought for every bite.
As the sun slowly rose on the desolate streets, Anna
ventured out in search of anything edible to feed her starving children. The
air was thick with the stench of decay and despair, and she felt a constant
pang of fear gnawing at her insides.
Suddenly, she noticed her old neighbor across the street,
sitting on the steps of his house, shoulders shaking as he sobbed
uncontrollably. "They threw me out," he whimpered between gasping
breaths. "My son said there's not enough food for us all, and I should
just be on the street waiting to be hit by a bomb or jump under one of the
tanks patrolling the streets. I have nowhere to go, maybe I should just…"
Hearing his words, Anna's heart ached with empathy. This man
had always been kind to them, often surprising her children with small toys
that brought joy to their difficult lives.
"There, there..." she consoled him gently,
offering a comforting hug. "We don't have much ourselves, but you can stay
with us."
While Anna went out in search of sustenance, John kept the
children entertained with his animated storytelling. But when she returned with
only a small sack of potatoes - exchanged for her last remaining possession, a
simple ring - their future became even more uncertain.
"I don't have anything left," Anna cried
tearfully. "What are we going to do now?"
John's voice was heavy with concern as he asked, "Have
you heard anything from Michael?"
The woman shook her head, her eyes downcast. "Not since
he left," she replied, her voice trembling. "I'm not even sure he's
still alive."
Determination flickered across John's face as he made a
decision. "I'll go over to my house tonight," he announced with
conviction. "I was weak when I let him throw me out because I thought he
was right. I lived a long life, and it was time for me to step out of the way.
But you took me in and showed more kindness than my own flesh and blood. I'm
going to beg him. If there is some of the gold I gave him, still left, he can't
be so stone hearted to refuse to help your children."
But John's son had a heart of stone. His words reverberated
in John’s mind like a sharp slap in the face. “Why are you still alive?” he
shouted from behind the closed door, his voice laced with bitterness and
resentment.
John could feel his heart clenched at the sound, knowing
that their once close family had been torn apart.
“How could you be so cruel to your own father?” John's voice
broke as he cried out in disbelief. His eyes were red and swollen from tears,
his chest heaving with emotion. “I raised you and did everything I could for
you. All I’m asking now is some of the gold I saved for hard times like this,”
he begged, his voice cracking with desperation.
“That gold is mine! You’re old, you lived long enough. I
have to feed my wife and kids.” His son’s voice was cold, unfeeling. “Why can’t
you just do the right thing?”
John's heart ached as he shuffled across the deserted
street, his sobs echoing through the empty buildings. He had never imagined
that his own son would turn him away in his time of need. “My own son! My flesh
and blood,” he whispered, tears streaming down his wrinkled cheeks.
Anna let the old man in through the back door and tried to
console him. “We’ll get by, somehow,” she whispered, placing a comforting hand
on his shoulder.
That night, they huddled close to each other in the dark
basement, the air thick with fear and tension. They could hear explosions and
gunfire outside, the sounds getting closer with each passing minute.
“That was very close,” Anna cried out in terror, hugging her
children tightly to her chest.
“Momma, I’m scared!” Little Barbara screamed in fright as
the building above them shook violently.
But despite their fear, they held onto each other tightly
amidst the chaos of war raging outside.
“Shh…don’t be scared, munchkin, I’m here. We’ll be alright,”
Anna cooed choking back her tears.
The bombing stopped around midnight, and the children fell
into a restless sleep. Sammy trashed and whimpered in his sleep and Barbara
clung to her mother.
John crept to the small, cloudy basement window at the first
sign of dawn and looked out. “Anna!” he cried out. “My house…”
“What is it, John?” Anna asked, frightened.
“It’s gone! My house…the bomb that hit close last night,”
the old man wept.
The streets were quiet when John went looking for his son
and his family. He couldn’t find any sign of life, only rubble strewn around
and a deep crater where the bomb hit the house. He searched for a long time,
falling over broken bricks, and calling their names to no avail.
“They’re all dead,” he sobbed when giving up returned to
Anna and her children. “The house he wanted so badly killed him.”
Just when all hope seemed lost, Anna's heart skipped a beat
at the sound of a weak voice coming from the street and saw a crouched figure
desperately trying to look inside. “Anna!” They heard a man’s voice. “Dear God,
let them be alive.”
“Michael?” Anna jumped up and ran to the window. “Michael,
is that you?”
“Yes, thank you, Lord! The children?”
“We’re all fine,” Anna sobbed, her heart bursting with joy.
“I’ll open the back door,” she shouted and ran up the stairs.
As she hugged her husband tightly, Anna's breath caught in
her throat when she noticed Michael's missing left arm. His uniform's sleeve
hung empty, a painful reminder of the horrors of war. But in that moment of
reunion and gratitude for their survival, it didn't matter - they were alive
and together, and that was all that truly mattered.
“We were under attack and the medic couldn’t get there on
time. He couldn’t save my arm…he had to cut it off and they discharged me,” he
whispered.
“It doesn’t matter!” Anna cried out, smiling at him through
tears. “You’re alive and you’re here. Come, the children will be so happy to
see you.”
After they filled their stomachs with the food Michael had
in his bag, they discussed the possibilities.
“The war is not going to end soon,” Michael said. “We have
to leave the city.”
At those words, John's shoulders slumped, and sobs wracked
his body. But deep down, he knew Michael was right - his family needed a place
where they could truly be safe. A place where they wouldn't have to constantly
fear for their lives.
John bowed his head and broke out in tears. “You’re right,
Michael. Your family needs a safe place.”
“You’re coming with us,” Anna's voice wavered, but her
determination was clear. “We’re now your family.”
With their meager belongings carefully packed into a
hand-pulled wagon, they set out on their journey away from the city. The nights
offered a brief respite, as they traveled quietly on foot with their children
nestled atop the wagon, exhausted and believing this was all just a bad dream.
But as dawn broke each day, reality set in once again.
The path ahead was treacherous - rocky terrain and winding
roads leading them through thick forests and abandoned towns. They sought
shelter wherever they could find it - under fallen tree branches or in
dilapidated buildings, always on guard for any danger that may lurk nearby.
As they journeyed, they faced desperation at every turn -
food was scarce and stores were closed, leaving them to scavenge what little
sustenance they could find in the countryside. Each day brought new challenges
and dangers, but they persevered with hopeful hearts set on finding a safe
place for their family. The weight of uncertainty hung heavily in the air, but
they held onto each other tightly, knowing that as long as they had each other,
they could face whatever came their way.
Tucked away in the remote northeast corner of the country,
they finally arrived at the small, mountainous village where Michael had spent
his childhood. As they made their way through the quaint streets, curious faces
peered out from behind curtains and doorways, watching their arrival with
suspicion. When they came to a stop at the weathered gates of Michael's family
home, six burly men charged towards them wielding pitchforks and axes.
"What business do you have here?" The man who
appeared to be their leader barked, his stance defensive. "We don't need
no strangers here. Move on!"
But Michael recognized his old classmate from school.
"We're not strangers, Paul!" He called out. "It's me, Michael
Varga. We were buddies back in elementary school. This is my parent's
house."
There was a brief exchange of hushed whispers among the
group of men before their leader spoke again. "We don't want you here,
city boy! Especially now that you’re a cripple," He spat out the words
with contempt. "You abandoned your hometown so stay out! We have enough
mouths to feed as it is."
“What are we going to do?” Anna whispered, holding onto
Michael’s arm. “We can’t fight them. They’re going to hurt us.”
“They’re hostile,” he whispered back. “My parents had a
haunting lodge up in the mountain. We’ll find it.”
The small family was watched closely as they started moving,
their steps heavy and hesitant. Michael took the lead, pulling the wagon with
determination, while Anna and John pushed from behind with all their strength.
Sammy and Barbara huddled together, whimpering softly as they clung to each
other in fear, refusing to look at the group of men tracking their every move.
As the sun began to sink toward the horizon, casting an
orange glow over the rugged landscape, they finally reached their destination -
a decaying building with peeling paint and broken windows. The once vibrant
garden that had been Michael's mother's pride and joy was now a tangle of
overgrown weeds, a stark reminder of the passing of his beloved parents fifteen
years ago. The air was thick with a sense of sadness and loss as they gazed
upon the empty shell of what was once a thriving homestead.
They entered the small house in gratitude for the roof over
their heads. The walls were weathered and cracked, with patches of peeling
paint revealing the faded wood underneath. Outside, wild plants twisted and
tangled around each other, a stark contrast to the once neatly cultivated
garden.
Despite the wild overgrowth of vegetation surrounding the
house, they still managed to find fruits, corn, and some vegetables that reseed
themselves year after year.
“People in the village have probably forgotten about this
place,” Anna pondered, her voice laced with unease. “Otherwise, they would’ve
taken everything.”
Michael’s face grew serious as he replied, “Yes, more than
likely...” He gently stroked his wife’s back. “And let’s keep it that way. This
house is far enough from the village. They don’t need to know we’re here until
we can learn more about the people who still live there. There are bad people
everywhere, and I can’t protect you all with only one arm.” Tears welled up in
his eyes as he thought of the danger they were in, but he quickly wiped them
away and put on a brave face.
Anna wrapped her arms tightly around her husband, children,
and the old man she learned to respect and love, tears streaming down her face.
“We’ll get by,” she sobbed, holding onto her family.
Despite the harsh winter ahead, they persevered and were
able to carefully pack away enough food to sustain them through the long
months. Michael found the root cellar stocked with jars of pickled vegetables,
bags of dried beans and lentils, and even some canned meats that Michael’s
mother had wisely stowed away for emergencies. They also found hidden treasures
in the basement. Bags of salt, sugar, and various spices would add flavor to
their otherwise plain meals.
The children took part in the hard work and gathered wild
berries in the woods with John. One day, they stumbled upon two scrawny hens
and excitedly carried them home as if they were prized possessions.
“Mommy, mommy!” Sammy burst into the kitchen, his face
beaming with pride. “Look what we found!”
“Oh, perhaps they ran away from the village,” Anna wondered.
“Or maybe they’re the grand chickens of my mom’s hen that
escaped from the butcher knife when I was a kid.” Michael laughed.
Barbara eagerly chimed in, “Can we cook chicken soup?”
But Anna’s frown quickly put a halt to the little girl’s
plans. “I think we better keep those hens,” she said thoughtfully. “They will
lay eggs, and maybe I can use some corn flour to bake a cake for Christmas.”
The mere thought of having something special to celebrate lifted everyone’s
spirits and made all their hard work worth it.
***
Anna gazed at her husband lovingly. His chest was rising and
falling in a steady rhythm as he lightly snored beside her. She smiled softly,
thinking of all the struggles they had faced together - the rundown house with
its leaking roof, the constant struggle to put enough food on the table for
their growing children. But none of it could overpower the love she felt for
her family. She knew they would get through this, as they always had before.
With a sigh, she pushed aside the warm blanket, rose from the bed, and shivered
when her bare feet touched the cold floor.
Reaching for her clothes, she quickly dressed, preparing
herself for whatever challenges lay ahead. In the quiet of the kitchen, she
took a moment to savor the peacefulness that surrounded her before beginning
another day of hard work with unwavering determination.
As tears welled up in her eyes, she couldn’t help but think
of her young children and husband, out in the forest every day collecting
fallen branches in the snow to keep their home warm.
The fire was soon crackling in the wood stove, and Anna
wasted no time in getting started on their usual breakfast: creamy grits. The
smell of cooking corn filled the air as she stirred the pot with practiced
hands. Despite the hardships they faced, she found solace in these small
moments and felt grateful for the simple joys in life.
Suddenly, her heart started beating faster when she heard
footsteps and stumping feet by the door. “It’s me.” She sighed in relief when
she heard John’s voice.
“I didn’t hear you going out,” Anna said watching the old
man as he dragged a small pine tree through the door.
“If my calculation is correct, today is Christmas Eve,” John
smiled, his eyes misting over.
“Oh, John,” Anna hugged the old man.
John cleared his throat and wiped his eyes. “The war
destroyed my family, but I still don’t know why, fate let me survive. Let’s
make the best of the time I have left. The children need a Christmas tree to
restore some normalcy in their lives.”
As the sun rose over the frosty forest, Sammy and Barbara
eagerly put on their hats and gloves to venture out into the winter wonderland
surrounding their home. They strode through the fresh snow, their breaths
creating puffs of white in the crisp air, collecting pinecones along the way.
The children's excitement was contagious as they returned
home, bringing their treasures with them to decorate the tree. With each
pinecone, small apples, and cutout snowflakes from old paper placed carefully
on the branches, they sang Christmas Carols with joy and enthusiasm. Meanwhile,
Anna busied herself in the kitchen, the scent of warm spices and freshly baked
rabbit, pumpkin, and potatoes filling the cozy house.
Finally, after dinner, the family gathered around to enjoy
the long-awaited cake together. Each bite was savored, the sweetness of the
treat matched only by the love shared between them.
When Christmas morning arrived, the children's eyes widened
with delight at the sight of presents waiting for them under the tree. John had
spent hours carving intricate animal figurines from softwood, while Michael had
crafted snowshoes for them. And Anna, always resourceful, had discovered a
bundle of wool yarn hidden away by her mother-in-law long ago, using it to knit
cozy scarves and hats for her beloved children.
Although fate had thrown many life-altering challenges at
them, they never lost hope for peace and a better future.
Erika M Szabo
Erika loves to dance to her own tunes and follow her dreams,
introducing her story-writing skills and her books that are based on creative
imagination with themes such as magical realism, alternate history, urban
fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance, and supernatural stories. Her children’s
stories are informative, and educational, and deliver moral values in a
non-preachy way.
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