Dearest John:

August 31, 2011 at 11:32 am · Filed under Dark Side, Mostly fiction, Poems ·Tagged author, Charles L. Mashburn, deny me, http://bluebellbooks.blogspot.com/, http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2011/08/26/free-write-friday-postcards-home/, http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/, poetry, Taken in the night, them, they, writer

This a short excerpt (Chapter 2, actually) of a novella I wrote, but did not publish, about ten years ago. The story is what I imagine could become of us if we continue down the path we now tread. Tyranny has been subtly stalking us for many years but is now charging full speed, and with rabid determination. As with the woman in my story, we lovers of freedom and liberty may be left wondering if perhaps it would have been better had we not awoken from our slumber. In my opinion, that would only be true if we die in our sleep. JMHO

Dearest John:

The woman stood alone, the sparkling sand cool on her bare feet, watching the ship approach. While her heart yearned that it be real, she knew it could not be. It appeared ancient, though its white sails stood in sharp contrast to the dawn sky. The sun was rising and it caused the sails to glow as though they were lighted by florescent tubes; pristine blue waters shimmered in its glow. The lighthouse at the tip of the isle, she knew to be real, though she wondered if its purpose had changed. She thought it to be a guardhouse these days, and below it she assumed were barracks where the men were kept. She could hear them singing in the deep of night; always the same song; always low and reverent in tone. She prayed that was where they’d taken John. She prayed he was still alive. She prayed for Amazing Grace.

The fence which divided the island was tall and electrified; generators ran day and night to supply power to the island. The women on this side were allowed to roam free, and ventured often to the fence in hopes they might glimpse, even for a moment, one of the men they listened to each night. They saw no sign of life and agreed among themselves the men were never allowed outside.

A tear slipped down her cheek; the gown she wore rustled in the breeze, and the worn piece of paper she held in her hand fluttered, as well. She looked down at it, wondering would her husband’s eyes ever read the words she’d written upon it:

Dearest John: I awoke as the last of them was leaving. He turned and saw me staring, and I wonder had I not stirred and lifted my head, if they would they have left me there, to find you gone when later I opened my eyes. I have not been  nor have I been harmed nor mistreated in any way. We are kept in comfortable rooms on this island. There are men on the other side. We hear them singing at night. I pray you are there. I pray you are safe. I know you are still alive. I can feel you. Were you gone, I would know. If this note finds its way to you, please, know I love you. They asked me one day if I would die for you. I said yes, and they laughed. but I will if it comes to that. The guard is coming now! I must go!

P.S. – I am not afraid.

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