Ch. 4
My pain-numbed body barely responded as I struggled with the shovel. Charlie's grave was located next to my mothers grave, his favorite spot to sit and think. My eyes had dried by now. I paused to look back at Charlie once again. The smoke had cleared almost completely by then, but the sky was a murky grey, mirroring my mood.
Almost a half an hour later, the grave was dug and I was cleaning up father. As I carried him over two feet, his right hand unclenched and a piece of paper floated to the ground. I took note of it but continued on my predetermined mission. Tears sprung forth again as I shoveled the last mound of dirt onto my peaceful looking father.
I wiped my eyes and walked over to the piece of paper. I dusted off a huge chunk of ceiling and sat down, unfolding the creased yellow paper. Charlies scribbled handwriting read, "Check my bag, let no one know, run away, win for me." I frowned, my forehead creasing with intense thought. "Check my bag." What bag? I looked around. All of the house had been incinerated.
My mind picked up on a past conversation. Charlie had once told me that his hammer bag was fire proof in case of a house fire. I leaped up and began searching through the rubble. My hand brushed past an old trunk that had sat in the corner of our house. It was barely singed. That caught my attention. I opened the lid and gasped. Inside was the bag with my fathers hammer and my own sword inside.
Charlie had made that sword so that I could learn our families heritage. My Mothers maiden name was Rose. Apparently, her family had been a great force in the armies against the Volturi, the evil force who had enslaved us. I had finished my training when I was about 16. I laughed quietly as memories flooded back to me. I rummaged through the trunk and felt another smooth feeling surface. I looked down and saw a piece of hide, that was covering a bulky item.
I pulled it off slowly, fearing what I would find.
It was beautiful. The cold metal shone dimly in the sunlight. I fingered it briefly before lifting the hand crafted armor from the trunk. This was what Charlie had been working on before the fire. I gulped and laid it on the ground, pulling out more items from the trunk. "Charlie, you said that you were making armor for yourself so that you could join the fight. How come this looks to be too small for you?" I whispered.
Maybe he hadn't finished, I thought. But on closer inspection, the armor had Charlie's seal of approval on the left inside plate. I frowned and ran my hand over the metal again, this time noticing the rose designs. My mind went blank as a feminine voice rang through my head, reminding me that my mother's generation was associated with the rose.
I also uncovered a pile of cloth with rose designs. I had no clue what that was for, but if this was included in the bag, I would take it.
"Oh, no. What were you thinking? I can't join the fight, I'm a girl." I was horror struck, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I was excited. What if I did? What if I defied the rebellion's rules? I picked up the pile of armor in a fit of excitement.
I glanced back at the trunk, thinking of how I could close it when I caught sight of my dad's hammer bag. I put down the armor as I gently handled my fathers ancient, fire proof bag. I pulled out the hammer with slow, careful reverence.
My eyes blurred with another round of tears. The worn wooden handle carved with elaborate designs reminded me of the times I would watch my dad work, awed at his accuracy and precision. When I was younger, I was not allowed to touch his hammer, for I was clumsy. My father feared that I would trip and kill myself. I laughed again in spite of myself.
"Dad," I said while looking up towards the sky," Wherever you are now, I know that you will miss this the most." Including me, I added quietly in my mind. I trudged over to his newly covered grave and dug down a little. I shined the already spotless hammer on my shirt. I hugged it close before pushing it into the cold earth.
I had to move on, or I would never be able to leave. I gathered the armor and shoved as much as I could in the bag, putting even more into my own travel bag. The only piece that would not fit was the breast plate. I sighed and looked around. I was alone it appeared so I changed my shirt and put the breastplate on.
I was surprised when it fit snugly. I smiled and held up a shoulder plate, admiring my reflection.
My smile grew until I laughed, drawing my sword, I walked a little unsteadily from my past home. Every step I took away was another step towards a brighter future.