"YOU CAN'T!" I screamed as loud as I could. He couldn't do this, not to me. My heart would break a million times a day and then there was always the possibility. . .
"Mom, calm down. I already said that I would go and, I have to go. I feel honour bound to do so."
"NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!" I screamed again. He didn't understand. How could he do this? My only son!
"I promise, I'll come back and see you again. Mom, this won't be the last time. I promise."
I sat down in my chair. I would lose this argument. I lost every argument with him. "Jasper, I don't want to lose you." I felt tears well up in my eyes, and I saw no reason to hold them back.
"You won't lose me Mom. I'll always be here." I barely talked to him through the next few days, although I probably should have. I wanted so badly to believe him, but, like me, he wouldn't always be here.
The last thing I said to him was, "I love you Jasper Whitlock. Hurry home, baby." He left for the war. My seventeen year old son, becoming an adult too soon.
The days passed slowly, painfully, crawling on and on and on. My neighbours were always dropping by. We talked, and I was grateful to them for trying to help me. They never gave up.
My heart always pounded whenever I got a letter from Jasper, with his father dead, he was the only family I had left, besides his twenty-year-old cousin, Anita. I kept those letters until my dying day, then I left him in the care of Anita. She promised to pass them down, and today they are still in my family.
Dear Mom,June 22, 1861
There's not really much to say now. I just started training, it's hard work, and conditions are not really good. I don't regret my decision to come. I miss you terribly, and I hope you haven't forgotten me.
I miss you and love you,
Jasper.
Dear Mom,July 18, 1861
We're leaving tomorrow to go into battle. I'm not really excited about it, I'm more scared than anything. The fools who believe that they're invincible and that this is all just a game are the ones who will get shot first. It's a terrible thing to say, I know, but it's the truth. Don't worry, I'll return.
I miss you and love you,
Jasper.
There were so many more. He told me not to worry, but I did, day in and day out. Some letters were really short, and others very long. He only wrote to Anita three or four times, but she said it was enough. I hoped that the war was almost over, but more than I hoped for that I prayed that he was right. That he would return.
It was many months later. I was just leaving my neighbours house. The army had come today, telling her how her husband was dead. I walked up the dark road. And I almost died on the spot.
On my front step was the same officer that had been at my neighbours house.
"Hello."
"Hello, Madame. I was hoping you wouldn't be keeping me waiting to much longer." He handed me two letters and strode away. I opened the one on top first.
Dear sir or madame,August 26, 1861
Your son, Jasper Whitlock, had disappeared. We have pressumed him dead.
Yours truly,
Jimmy JoHannsonn
Jimmy JoHannsonn Commanding Officer
I was stunned. I had told myself time and time again to expect the worst, but he had promised me he would come home. Where would he have disappeared to? Had the enemies killed him? I would probably never know. I turned my attention to the second letter.
Dear Mom,August 18, 1861
I am writing this letter just in case. In case I don't come home. If I don't need it than it than it shall be burned the first night of my homecoming. You will never have to see the contents. But if you are reading this, than by now you know.
Now you know that I have been killed. By what or whom you probably will never find out, but don't trouble yourself with it. It may be better not to know.
I want to ask that you do not dwell on the fact that I won't be coming home. Mourn for me if you wish, but after the funeral is overwith and you have cried so many tears, do not cry many more. I want you to have fun. Enough fun for both me and you. This war will be over soon enough. Live your life.
I love you and miss you.
Always with you in spirit,
Jasper.
Tears fell, faster and faster, blurring the writing, blocking everything out. I felt the pain, so much more painful than anything I had ever felt before. I wanted to throw this in the fire, thinking that maybe if it was burned Jasper would come home. But I looked at the official looking letter and knew he wouldn't. I wouldn't see my baby ever again.
I honestly tried to do as he asked, after the funeral, which was just a headstone, as we had no body, I tried not to cry. And Jasper was right, the war didn't last to much night, I was sick. I was an old woman, all alone. I knew I was dying.
I heard my front door creak open, but I heard no footsteps. I was dizzy with fever. There wasn't anything anyone could do to save me, and I wanted to die alone. I wanted to tell them to go away. Tell them to leave, but it felt like cotton had been stuffed in my mouth. I closed my eyes.
I felt a cold hand take mine. I opened my eyes. There in front of me, was an angel. I tried to get pas the cotton in my mouth, but I couldn't. Was the angel here to take me to Heaven?
"I love you." Whispered the angel.
Mrs. Elaine Whitlock was found in her house early in the morning by the postman. He rushed to her side, she was screaming about her son, who had died in the war many years before. She was begging him to come back to her. The postman, Roger O'Ryan, left to go get help. By the time he returned Mrs. Whitlock had died, with an unusually cold hand.
That was my first one-shot. I thought of it earlier today when my friend Lezlee and I were arguing over how old Jasper was when he enlisted. We're studying WW1 and the trenches and I thought of how Jasper's mother must have felt when he left, so this piece of writing came into being. The dates aren't real because I was to lazy to research them. I don't know Jasper's mother's name, so I made that up too.
I don't own it.
~DI4MGZ~