Prologue
Screams still echo in your head. Bangs and crashes play on loop your mind. Could everything really have been that horrifying when the last thing you had heard was laughter? Your laughter? That and the deafening explosion that had killed you. Eyes flick uselessly around the darkness. It's blacker than even your worst nightmares. Your hand moves out and immediately it hits solid wood. Slide it up the sides, until it reaches the roof of your prison. Is this where you are destined to stay forever? Or perhaps, this is a test- a way of proving your worth. Breath is running out. Any air that had been trapped with you has by now been used. Tap the wood. Tap the wood above you. Knock and see if anyone comes to save you. Find out if anyone believes you are still alive. Gulp for air, don't let this beat you. Push as hard as you can and release the lid.
A tiny crack. All you create is a tiny crack. But it's enough. Light floods through the gap, swiftly followed by air. Sweet, sweet air. Feel around next to you, find the few items that have been buried with you. Your eyes adjust to the light which now surrounds you. There are clouds in the cool sky, colours paint the landscape. How long has it been since you've seen nature, seen how beautiful life really is? Ease yourself up and feel the soft breeze. Allow the chirping of the birds and the whispering of the leaves to remind you of how much you could have left behind. Gather your possessions: the key, the broom, the photo and the pine wand.
Look around and see the fifty other reminders of the war. You don't want to be left there with them. Lifeless, limp horrors of a tragedy. All unburied. Scramble to your feet and run. Run far. Wind whistles in your ears, whipping your skin. Down the hill, through the grass, past the swaying trees until…
Stand in front of your old home. The windows are dark, not one light is on. The gate creaks loudly as it opens and your footsteps clap like a drum beat on the yard. Step through your house, step through the memories. Memories. One memory which is sharper than a knife blade. Guilt smacks you in the face. Suddenly, you're glad that no one is home. You're a traitor. A traitor to your family. Is there anything worse than that?
Flee.
Settle down quietly. File away the life you once had, lead a new one instead. It's safer after what you did. It's better this way.
And twenty years will pass in a blur…