Corbin

Winds of Change

A month later was my eighteenth birthday. Much as I might dislike the day due to the memories that it dragged to the surface of my mind, Winter loved any reason to celebrate. I mean what else would one expect from a child of four? And so we did what we had always done on my birthday ever since Father had left. We put on our Sunday best – double hair bows for her and even a tie for me – and walked hand in hand into the town about a mile away.

There we would perch on the stone wall, or sit lazing in the sun-warmed grass, watching the clouds as they scudded across the sky, ice cream cones in hand. On this particular day, in an attempt to relive a fond memory of Mother, we were trying to find shapes in amongst the fluffy white sky cotton. Winter was even set to giggling at a cloud she was convinced was one of Old Saint Nick's reindeer.

"Look Yosha, he must have gotten lost on his way back to the North Pole last Christmas!" she grinned, ice cream smeared on her nose.

I grinned in response and leaned over, wiping away the sticky mess before returning to my own ice cream. As tradition told us we would, Winter had chosen strawberry while I stuck to butterscotch – though of course we shared as well. The two flavours had been Mother's favourites, once upon a time, and we had picked up her love for them too.

Mother. That was the one thought I couldn't shake from my head. When we stood up today to go home, there would only be two patches of down-trodden grass, not three. Sadness etched into the walls of my heart again as I tried to accept that. However just as quickly as the feeling washed over me, I was relieved by the distraction of Winter leaping up from the yellow-green blades to chase a butterfly. It was black with the brightest red wings I had ever seen.

"Come on Yosha, you've got to help me catch it!"

I sprung to my feet, almost toppling my ice cream in my pursuit of the pair. As Winter scrambled up the stone wall in an attempt of capture, I couldn't help but smile. Of course, the butterfly was out of reach within mere moments but since we were already walking, we made our way down to the docks and watched the boats come in. Eventually we went home.

It was when we got to our house that I found it. It was pinned to the door. A white envelope addressed to Master J. Alisbry. My heart sank. I unpinned it, almost knowing without opening it what it was. My brown furrowed, I took the letter to the table and sat down as Winter went and poured herself a cup of milk. My fears were confirmed as I read through the pages.

Dear Master Alisbry,

It is our duty to inform you that you are being called to do your part in active service for your country. We have decided to place you in military training as of December 15th, the current year.

We understand that this places you in a predicament due to the need for the care of Miss W. Alisbry. Therefore, we are taking action and removing Miss Alisbry from your care for the duration of your training and service. We will collect Miss W. Alisbry at two o'clock on the afternoon of December 12th.

Your cooperation is expected on the matter,

Signed,

Head of Military Recruitment,

G. H. Bates

Under instruction of

Commander-In-Chief

M. L. Sanderson

The shock in my heart turned to horror, then sadness, then anger. I was furious! How could they do this? Force me to join the Military and turn over my sweet little sister who hadn't yet even turned five. I glanced up from the letter and looked at the precious face the military was demanding I give up. My eyes stung with tears at the thought. And as they flicked over to where her school uniform hung, still unworn on a peg by the fireplace, anger became determination.