The Flower Tree
This nightmare again. Tormenting at his mind years after the sky fell. Leon moves his view seeing the familiar seemscape of rubble and stone emerged retreating shadows revealing the broken concrete sidewalk, once elegant in beauty in its design and only found down town. He knew where he was, the same place he keeps returning to remind him. A heavy shadow always accompanied the tormented. This is the place where she died.
The air raid sirens sounded off, right on cue. Nonetheless haunting in it’s warning brought shivers, the canary in the mine, announcing impending doom on the horizon. The distance sound in the sky, howling of engines and machine, like angels of death coming to deliver mankind with flame and brimstone. Even long after much of the world turned to nuclear cinders, returning again as if either to retell this old story or fortelling their inevitable return.
“Leon”.An echo of a woman spoke, her voice sweet, nurturing and missing from his life.
“Mom?” He turned to his view to the voice’s direction.
“My love. I’ve missed you”.
“Mom”!
Leon ran toward the darkness where her voice came, till a shroud darkness blinded his vision momentarily before lifting with light. All around his feet now was sands, a barren wildnress of sand. Strange. What was this place?
Then there, standing before him a massive ancient structure world renouned for it’s antiquety and mysterious origns, in both time and designer. Towering over two hundred and three steps towards the top, to it’s two hundred fourth stone; decending in dreading suspense. How he knew exactly how many stones there were frankily put him more on edge.
He began to hear voices slowly grow in number and in volume, from whispers, to shouts or arguments. None he could discern or understand thousands of words spoken over each other and nothing cohesive to extrapolate, a sensory overload he wanted it to end.
Till the eerily silence answered his call.
He opened his eyes, a sight of horror revealed itself. Death had surrounded him. Thousands of corpses, solider and warrior from the most ancient bloodiest battles in history, to the most recent wars fought in the last century. But on the other end laid the most unusal among the dead. They were Paled dark, sunken eyes, soldiers clearly of some sort dawned in distinct Imperalist fatigues, their faces most of all were violently contorted appearing more like the screaming faces of the damned.
“The end is nigh. Washington”. A cold chill fell down Leon’s spine, turning his view at a figure facing the structure he saw before. A warrior, it seemed, cladded in dark armor of sorts, it’s face concealed by a dark mask taking the form of death himself. The figure slowly pivoted to his direction, brining an overbearing aura of terror, making Leon flee dream or no dream. His attempt however was short-lived, a sharp cold metal prutruded through his chest gushing out blood.
“There is no esacpe”.
He fell to the ground coughing out liquid crimson, his legs gone numb and his vision blurring the last thing he saw while begging for his life, was his hand trying to stop the final strike cutting him down before everything turned dark. ______
May 16, 20XX A.D. Morning
Leon shouted, shot up from his bed placing his hands around where he believed to be injured. Luckily with a sigh the dream remained as so, dispite the heart attack of brutally being murdered and by Jason, minus the Hockey Mask and machete.
(KNOCK) (KNOCK) (KNOCK) (KNOCK)
“Brother!” His thoughts were interrupted by a soft timid voice, greatful she came just in time.” Breakfast is almost ready”.
Leon let out a sigh, the morning had just begun.
His drowsy gaze viewed the choas around his room, piles of study books at his desk with hours upon hours of compiled note tags within hundreds of pages. From proper dress code of uniform, proper formations, firearms research, military communication, to tedious questionnaires.
Then on the floor were more books collecting dust, an entire collection of his father’s studies with early European and Mediterranean Histories. Everything involving the subject of the Irish and Germania Histories he left standing, some books on the Greeks and Carthogenians, to the indiginous peoples of the Americas also stood. All else laid there unread or completely neglected.
His foucs had turned to the exams for this last semester. An exam for Cadets to complete, and one of the most difficult to pass. Because of it’s importance, anyone who did pass would be honored a high ranking position within the Military, a head start at least.
Cadet rankings didn’t transfer over entirely to military ranks, a stupid rule.
97 percent of yearly cadets seeking for this head start, fail to even reach a passing score of 72; passing with a prefect score is a myth.
He opened the curtains slightly open enough allowing the warm light to enter, as he dressed himself in blue business pants, a white collar dress shirt and a navy blue tie, the formal school dress code, another annoyance to deal with. Thursdays and Fridays are R.O.T.C uniform day. While Mondays and Tuesdays everyone was allowed to wear what they wanted, so long as it was appropriate. Fair enough. Unfortunately, today was Wednesday.
Looking at himself in the mirror, brushing up his pitch black hair and then teeth, seeing that scar across his nose. He placed a hand on it, feeling the small slope, not deep but visible enough to see. After a moment of reminiscending, he left for the door to his room.
Spotting a paper, a letter from the Midwest Republic’s Military Bureau, resurfacing his mixed feelings of anxitey, but commitment. A last hope for recover from his loses, return from humilation, not only a second chance, but a chance to redeem himself. Taking the paper along with his bookbag hanging by a wall hook, revealed another paper, the Exam. Scored at 71.
Coming down the stairs expecting someone in particular to be present in the livingroom, or the Military Memobilia room. Every Wednesday without fail he’d clean the room like a second religion, something he’s done for as long as he could remember. Today, appearently wasn’t this day.
From the framed old American flag right above the fireplace, to protraits of soliders without names than the few Leon knows closely and a group gathering of them with a woman wearing a bandana on her forehead. There was enough material around the filled space to write a full biography about the life and Legend of the now retired solider and General, Jack Washington.
His most sendimental piece stood in the center, a small wooden table with a glass top, appearing more confine like than a piece of furniture. Preserved behind laid a worn and respectfully folded fatigues from his Marine days. With old photos of faces he knew nothing about, maybe parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, brothers or sisters. None his father ever willingly spoken of.
“He’s outside with mom”. Amber spoke, standing on a small stool at the kitchen stove. She was wearing her school uniform, a long dress with collar shirt and tie, while she wore a red apron. Most of all, she had her earrings on, the flower of life, an heirloon once belonging to her mother.
Leon came to the dinning room opening the curtains of a window and there he was, spotting the large tree in the distance, three yards away from the house, and just a few feet from the wheat fields. There a bural tomb stone stood, ornates of the flower of life hung underneath, and a lone figure rested in a prayer position, unshaken by the cold spring morning chill under the Flower Tree.
“Did you see him get up?” He turned to Amber.
She shook her head, still cooking at the stove.“He was there when I woke up”.
This again. He came home not just late late, he came home very damn late and possibly never went to bed. Did he seriously have another conference call? It’s been nearly a week. Nearly week since what happened in the Town of Neo Kyoto near the Northern Border.
“I tried to bring him inside, but...“, A concerned voice formed, carrying a slightly timid look.“...he felt...“. She quickly served a fresh cup of coffee and grabbed a plate with his breakfast, her hands nervously shook.
“Here”.
Then the cup and plate shattered spilling all the food and hot coffee with it.
“Amber!” Leon rushed over grabbing a dry kitchen cloth and cleaning her hands and checking for any cuts, as she stood there almost in complete shock.
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m not”.
Whatever she was going through stuck enough to Amber, emotionally. Anxiety, fear, anger, joy, love, any emotion a person or people are feeling at the moment in close proximity, she’d sense it all. Just like days ago during lunch time at school, thousands of emotions flooded her, assaulting her emotional state to the point of breaking. Least that how she found her, hidding in the girls restroom scared, crying. Leon was just outside the closed door, accompanied by his ‘friend’, who’d if otherwise wasn’t a girl would of likely had a hard time just to enter the girls restroom. The glass from the mirrors and windows were borderline about to break, before she’d eventually calmed down.
Looking back now, he saw some brusises on her arms. As if she was struggling to break free, from someone. Her excuse of course was she pressed them tightenly without realizing it. He didn’t believe a single word.
“We need to tell him about this”.
“No!” Amber reacted shacking her head, grabbing him by the wrist, speaking in a begging tone.” You promised to keep it a secret”.
“Amber you haven’t gone to school in days. We can’t keep this from him forever. You need help”. Though she looked fine in appearance, he could still see her sublte wearness from her greyish blue eyes contrast to his pure blue eyes.
“You need to be in bed resting”. Leon continued expressing concern.” Not making breakfast. I’m not gonna wait for you to have another panic attack”.
“But I don’t want to lie down”!
“Amber!”
“If you tell on me, then... I’ll tell on you”.
Leon stood there silent, her eyes stared into his with defiance no matter how timid she really appeared. He forgets how much like her mother she is, than again she had a little more of a tough love personality to her, complemented by her calm gentle nurture in her words.
If anything she was more desperate than truely brave to her word, out of love for her only brother, the next and closest person she could lean on when there father was absent.
He carefully thought of his texts words, weighing between her and jeopardizing his chance to redeem himself from failure.
“God”. Leon face palmed.” Fine!”
“But I swear”, he pointed to her,” if you even look like death....”
Amber hugged him tightly, to which though hesitently he embraced her. This wasn’t the right thing to do, yet he didn’t want to lose his chance with the Volunteers.
“Just do me a favor”, He came to a coat hanger, grabbing a sweater.” Don’t... push yourself. Okay”. He patted her head, for as much of a pain the ass she can be sometimes, the last thing he wanted from this is to see her cry.
Amber nodded.” You don’t need to either”.
Leon stopped on his tracks, slightly about to turn the nob of the door open. Right. His shame bubbling back to the surface, if only he hadn’t failed so pathetically by one point.
Coming out the morning brezze was more chilly then expected, making him feel thankful for taking the insulated sweeter instead of the thinner blue one. Contrast to his father, wearing no more than his Police Chief uniformed blue pants and a white collar shirt. With this wind anyone would be frezzing their asses off, unless your a twenty year retired marine, than this is a regular Monday morning. Honestly, the older generation is built differently.
“Hey, dad. Amber is finishing breakfast”. There was no reponse. No flinch, no sound but the wind passing through the wheat fields.
“Hey? Hello. Anyone home?“Not even a wave of his hand made a difference. His eyes closed, breathing steady, this man was completely checked out from reality. The old bastrad was good at this trick, and the times he’d thought of getting physical with him, his gut feeling would tell him every time not to do so.
Leon gazed at the photo frame, a portriat of the same beautiful woman, without a bandana this time, long blonde hair, blue eyes, her Germanic features clear, and her smile filled with a serenity like the passing of seasons. Placed on a wooded table underneath the hanging of glass flower of life sculptures around, where next to it stood a telescope, pure in gold with a glimmering shine of passion for star gazing. Least it had long since seen the enchanting luminaries dance across the night skies.
He sat next to him, playing the long waiting game. And he may as well make a small prayer, before he could even begin his first thoughts a hand distrubed his concerntration.
“You alright? Your looking ready to retire.” A rough southern voice spoke, which could be confused with seriousness.
Leon made a side glance then turned back to his mother.” Says the old bastard, already passed his expiration date”.
They both chuckled, mother would be proud.
“You came home late, Amber was worry a bit worried”. Leon said, moving his gaze to see the breaded fifty-eight year old.“Thought the Commies finally got to you”.
“I’m a Marine Leon, not mall cop with cat band aids”.
Leon chuckled.“Retired Marine. And you wouldn’t look too bad using the Hi Kiddy Band Aids. You’ll command more respect that way”.
Jack simply laughted, unable to contain himself. Something so strange, he’d never laughed like this for a long time, not since that day. Was it real? Was it fake? Then again, he was enjoying this moment regardless. Might as well make it last.
“Seriously”. Leon said.” What happened?”
Jack finally went quiet. A cut off from the joy of the moment, replaced with that famailar frown.” We had a Conference call. The President needed me there for this one in particular. Nothing really important”.
Leon knew this was a lie. A Conference Call with the President!?! Jim himself, his old war buddy. He hadn’t seen him in two years, after his successful campaign and inauguration as President of the United Nation-States of America. Leader of the current thirteen nation states. Nothing really important, Leon found that hard to believe.
“Really? Then he owes you a beer for keeping you that long. Maybe make him visit once and awhile. Just like the old days. He still owes me for that...“. Leon turned to him, Jack carried a distrubed look as if he couldn’t turn away from the thought grabbing on to him. Was it his Shell Shock?
“Dad, what’s wrong”. Leon placed both hands on him, it was enough to bring him back.
“Nothing”. Jack shook his head.” Just...something that came up, that I forgot to do”.
Again another lie. The meeting had something to do with Neo Kyoto, no doubt their enemies from the Northen Border were involved, if not directly responsible with the murder of nearly thirty- thousand out of the hundred thousand Japanese people.
“What did they say. What happened in the meeting?”
Jack turned to his son, as if there was more to say, but hesitated. William saw it. Hidden behind his eyes laid a disturbed man, whatever discussions went on, a fear took hold of him. Before he could complete a sentence however he was stopped by a small voice.
“There’s something I need to-”
“Leon? Dad?” Amber’s small voice called out.“Come inside already. Breakfast is already done”!
Jack sighed in relief. “Let’s go”. Jack stood to his feet facing away from Leon.” We’ll talk more inside”.
He went on ahead before Leon too followed him back to their quiet farm house. As the red dawn fully arose from behind them, bathing the landscape in its radiance, as the glass Flowers of Life shined to life. On this morning of May 16th. Officially, the day had begun.
________
Chapter End
Chapter End
good chapter. 😊