He left that morning. My only
sibling —my best friend —my
veritable father — left me for
active duty in Afghanistan.
“Do you miss him much?” my
boyfriend Liam asked me on
the day after Dan left.
“I don’t know. I haven’t cried
about it, but since he left,
there’s been a giant hole in
my heart. Everything seems
so. . .”
“Empty?” Liam finished. I
nodded. No more needed to be said.
We both sat, silently looking out over the porch
railing — the railing that Dan helped Dad make
seven years ago. We looked out at the garden that
Dan worked as long as I could remember. We saw
the treehouse that Dan’s strong hands helped erect
for me. The rope ladder swung freely, waiting for
Dan and me to climb it together. . .
“You know,” Liam ventured again, after a moment,
“he left something for you. I should have showed
you yesterday, but everything. . . Well, here it is now.”
It was a very short note. Well, it wasn’t really a
note. It was actually just an address and a set of
commands:
8220 WARNOCK.
BOOTS ON. COAT ON. WEAPON IN HAND. MIND
STEELED. NERVES STEELED. TACTICS PLANNED.
SATURDAY 0700. DON’T BE LATE.
“But what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
“Your guess is probably better than mine. He
handed this to me just before we said goodbye. I can
Zoe Krauskopf is the 1st Place Winner for Grade 11
in the 2015-16 Seton Short Story Contest
THERE WILL BE HOPE
11
Grade
First Place
ZOE KRAUSKOPF
MILITARY GIRL © JOHN GOMEZ / DOLLAR PHOTO CLUB
12
