Wandering & Wondering

Someday in 1945

A mini story written by me a very long time ago. This is the first chapter of a novel that we--Nugra, Nadya and I--wanted to produce actually. But, a lot of things came up. And our novel is in halt. I post it to remind myself and the other friend of mine to keep continuing our unfinished story. It's somehow hurt me a little bit to keep this mini-story hidden in the corner of my dusted folder *lebay lol*. So, enjoy while you can. because if this novel is going to be on again, I may deleted it from my blog. hahahahahaha.


It’s end. It was all ended. This is the end. The world finally had suffered. But, it’s all ended. And as the witness of this ending, Sarah was there, sipped her tea slowly and watching the debris through the newspapers all over again. The newspapers scattered all over her room. She was only 7 seven years old and she read the newspaper fluently and loudly, “Hitler is dead.”
“Is it really the end, Ann?"
            Sometimes she asked to a girl with the brunette hair in front of her, but Ann never answered. She was busy with her doll, ignoring the scattered newspapers in the room. Ann was Sarah’s neighbor before, but for this moment, she was Sarah’s sister. Ann’s parents decided to look after Sarah since her only family—her father—left her for his duty as a war journalist.
Sarah read again. The war stories filled up the room with her screechy voice; infiltrate every room in Ann’s ears and made Ann couldn’t ignore it anymore. Ann lifted her sight from her dolls, staring at the newspapers in the floor. She walked around the room, looking at picture in every newspaper, too lazy to read. The pictures of wars now filled her eyes too. It was not interesting at all.
             “Why do you enjoy reading the newspapers so much?” asked Ann in curiosity.
Sarah stopped reading and sighed, “My father said he wrote for the newspaper, Ann.”
“He taught me how to read and he told me to read newspapers. So that, one day I can found and read my father’s writing in the newspaper.”
“So, where is your father’s writing then?
“I can’t found his name in any newspaper. It’s odd, isn’t it?” asked her, “He is a journalist, Ann! But his names never appear in the newspapers!”
“So why do you still read the newspaper even though you know that there is no your father’s writing at all?”
“While looking for my father’s writing, I read the whole news in the newspaper and I found it interesting” Her blue eyes sparkled.
“Odd!” Ann exclaimed, “It was all about war. It was not something that interesting.”
Sarah shrugged her shoulders and continued to read the newspaper loudly.
“…That man is in danger of destroying himself with his own weapons, leaving the ants or some other gregarious species to take over…”
Now she read the article of George Orwell titled “You and the atomic bomb”. Ann sighed. She would never understand what was going on with Sarah’s brain. She left Sarah alone with her “Wars”.
Sarah stopped reading. After a moment of silence alone, tears ran from the corners of her eyes. “Dad, where are you” She sobbed.
These past few months, her father didn’t come home at all. Her father’s news never appeared in the newspaper. She knew that this time would come, as her father said, “Someday, maybe I will not come home, dear. It is a war. I am a journalist. I know there are dangers await me. If the time comes, I want you to be strong, my dear Sarah”
“But, why?”
“There are events I may witness; there are truths I cannot ignore, dear.”
Sarah sobbed. She remembered all the nightmares she was coming through these past days. Her father was typing with his typewriter, when the shadow was pulling him away and made him vanished in the darkness. Then Sarah waked up with scream and with hands reaching out for nothing.
But because of that dream, she was really sure that her father was not dead. He was just vanished. He was lost. He was missing. There is no any news about his death either. And that reason made her this insane, reading the newspaper to seek her father’; to calm her down by reading it aloud; and to hide her sadness.
“…and the social structure that would probably prevail in a state which was at once unconquerable and in a permanent state of "cold war" with its neighbours” she shouted.

The darkness was falling on the London sky slowly. The orange bulbs lighten up every corner of the city. In the midst of misery, a 7-years-old lip murmured, “This is not the end, this is the beginning”
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