Separation
Gavin awoke suddenly. He dreamt of being in a wilderness, hot and overgrown, not knowing where he was or where he was going. In fear he scampered out of his bed and walked toward his door, barely dodging the child's playthings that adorned his room; wooden weapons and toy soldiers. The door was closed; light flickered out from its frames. He approached it cautiously, hearing low but familiar voices beyond. It was his father and mother. Their voices were quiet but desperate, their inflections resounded deep worry and conflict. Never before had he heard murmurs like these. He pressed his ear to the door.
"...He can't stay here", he heard his mother say.
"Why?", the father asked.
"You know why. He'll die here."
"He'll die anyway. At least we'll be together."
"You can't mean that."
"And you do? You want to cast him out, let him go alone."
"He has a chance out there. He can find help..."
Gavin stepped away from the door; his face went blank. In confusion he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor. After some time he rolled back onto his pillow and pulled the covers over his head and tried to go back to sleep, tried to forget. Just before he faded into slumber, turning remembrances to fiction in his mind, he heard a loud, heavy crash outside. His mother called out his name and opened the door and with a tight grip pulled him up. His father was behind her, frantically packing a bag with clothing and food. "Come on, we have to go", she told him as she led him by the hand through their home.
"What's happening? I don't understand", the boy said and looked at her.
"I know you don't, I know", his mother comforted him, "But it's not safe here anymore. We have to go now."
He changed his clothes as fast as he could, putting on a hooded coat and a pair of boots. He looked at his feet; the shoes were stiff and unworn. Another crash was heard outside, louder than the last. A window shattered. His mother screamed and his father covered him. They took him by both hands and rushed out. They stopped for a moment to survey the horror around them: people yelling and running in every direction, a neighbor's barn on fire, a man lying flat on the ground, a blazing light on the night horizon and the sound of iron-clad advancing. They fled, and as they did the sky became littered with small red lights like fire flies gliding in formation against a black canvas. The projectiles came down and showered across the land, striking some but narrowly missing the boy and his guardians.
They kept going until they passed far beyond their home, diving into a thin wooded area. The boy looked back and saw the carnage; huge, destructive conflagrations, billowing pillars of smoke, tiny, scattered funeral pyres. An orange glow sifted through a crooked entanglement of tree branches, reaching toward the sky like crowds of gnarled fingers. "Don't look at it", his father told him. He obeyed. They stopped only to catch their breath and they were off again. Finally they came to the edge of a high cliff bordering a vast ocean. They boy stood in muted amazement. The father pointed toward a path leading down to the shore and they set upon it. His son kept his eyes on the water, so calm amidst the chaos. Walking across the beach they reached a small boat, barely large enough for a single person. Gavin's father set his child's pack in the vessel and rose its mast. Gavin's mother stood just behind him, clutching his shoulder and shaking. He looked at her and saw she was crying; he looked back at the boat, his father was returning. The man knelt next to his son and ran his hand, his thick, worker's hand, down the side of his face. He looked him in the eyes and said, "You're gonna have to leave".
The boy's face furrowed. "But I don't want to", he said.
"Look-", his father looked down and cleared his throat, "It's been a long time coming. This isn't the way I wanted it, but we don't have a choice."
"Where will you be?", the boy asked. A deafening thunderclap roared from past the cliff.
"Listen!", his father shook him, "You go and you find safety out there. Your life... your life is precious, Gavin."
"I'm scared. I wanna be with you", he started to cry. It was all so loud.
His father looked at his wife. She was inconsolable now, already in grief. "We'll be right behind you, now let's go!" And with that, he picked him up and carried him into the boat. The boy kept whimpering as his father pushed the boat further and further into the sea, stopping when the water reached his chest. He watched the current and the wind take control of the boat, and stood there motionlessly in the ocean as it drifted away. The boy looked back. He saw his father wading and his mother on her knees in the sand, hands on her heart. He kept his eyes on them as they became dots on the horizon. A wave swelled and passed under the boat, blocking the view. When the current steadied itself all that he could see were the teetering waters around him. At once he knew. They were gone.
"...He can't stay here", he heard his mother say.
"Why?", the father asked.
"You know why. He'll die here."
"He'll die anyway. At least we'll be together."
"You can't mean that."
"And you do? You want to cast him out, let him go alone."
"He has a chance out there. He can find help..."
Gavin stepped away from the door; his face went blank. In confusion he sat on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor. After some time he rolled back onto his pillow and pulled the covers over his head and tried to go back to sleep, tried to forget. Just before he faded into slumber, turning remembrances to fiction in his mind, he heard a loud, heavy crash outside. His mother called out his name and opened the door and with a tight grip pulled him up. His father was behind her, frantically packing a bag with clothing and food. "Come on, we have to go", she told him as she led him by the hand through their home.
"What's happening? I don't understand", the boy said and looked at her.
"I know you don't, I know", his mother comforted him, "But it's not safe here anymore. We have to go now."
He changed his clothes as fast as he could, putting on a hooded coat and a pair of boots. He looked at his feet; the shoes were stiff and unworn. Another crash was heard outside, louder than the last. A window shattered. His mother screamed and his father covered him. They took him by both hands and rushed out. They stopped for a moment to survey the horror around them: people yelling and running in every direction, a neighbor's barn on fire, a man lying flat on the ground, a blazing light on the night horizon and the sound of iron-clad advancing. They fled, and as they did the sky became littered with small red lights like fire flies gliding in formation against a black canvas. The projectiles came down and showered across the land, striking some but narrowly missing the boy and his guardians.
They kept going until they passed far beyond their home, diving into a thin wooded area. The boy looked back and saw the carnage; huge, destructive conflagrations, billowing pillars of smoke, tiny, scattered funeral pyres. An orange glow sifted through a crooked entanglement of tree branches, reaching toward the sky like crowds of gnarled fingers. "Don't look at it", his father told him. He obeyed. They stopped only to catch their breath and they were off again. Finally they came to the edge of a high cliff bordering a vast ocean. They boy stood in muted amazement. The father pointed toward a path leading down to the shore and they set upon it. His son kept his eyes on the water, so calm amidst the chaos. Walking across the beach they reached a small boat, barely large enough for a single person. Gavin's father set his child's pack in the vessel and rose its mast. Gavin's mother stood just behind him, clutching his shoulder and shaking. He looked at her and saw she was crying; he looked back at the boat, his father was returning. The man knelt next to his son and ran his hand, his thick, worker's hand, down the side of his face. He looked him in the eyes and said, "You're gonna have to leave".
The boy's face furrowed. "But I don't want to", he said.
"Look-", his father looked down and cleared his throat, "It's been a long time coming. This isn't the way I wanted it, but we don't have a choice."
"Where will you be?", the boy asked. A deafening thunderclap roared from past the cliff.
"Listen!", his father shook him, "You go and you find safety out there. Your life... your life is precious, Gavin."
"I'm scared. I wanna be with you", he started to cry. It was all so loud.
His father looked at his wife. She was inconsolable now, already in grief. "We'll be right behind you, now let's go!" And with that, he picked him up and carried him into the boat. The boy kept whimpering as his father pushed the boat further and further into the sea, stopping when the water reached his chest. He watched the current and the wind take control of the boat, and stood there motionlessly in the ocean as it drifted away. The boy looked back. He saw his father wading and his mother on her knees in the sand, hands on her heart. He kept his eyes on them as they became dots on the horizon. A wave swelled and passed under the boat, blocking the view. When the current steadied itself all that he could see were the teetering waters around him. At once he knew. They were gone.
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