Silent Solitude

It's years after World War ll now when I was handed an assignment to find out some information about some of the people belonging to the resistance back in the day. Why are they even bothering looking up some old people? The resistance is long since been disbanded...oh well, it's my job to do what they tell me to do.

Arriving at an old house, I was alone, and I slowly opened the door and made my way up to the unstable attic. The old lady who lived here passed away about 2 months ago and no one had emptied out her stuff yet.

I was poking around the attic looking through boxes when suddenly a old musty sheet fell on top of my head I let out a yelp and pulled it off of me. When I went to stand up, I came face to face with a grand old mirror. I stared at my reflection, nothing too terribly special about me. My raven black tresses stop midway down my back and I was too short for my taste. My height only reaching 5'3" even though I'm 22 now. The only startling part of my appearance is my eyes, they're a shocking emerald green and everyone I meet says that they love the color.

I reached to replace the cover over the mirror and continued my search through the attic. After hours of sifting through old journals and getting covered in dust, I gave up my search and made my way across the floor when I tripped over a small box. I bent over to pick it up when the latch unhooked and the contents fell out on the floor.

There were several aged papers tied together in a simple red ribbon and a beautifully engraved locket. Though it went against my better judgement, I walked over to and old rocking chair and sat in it delicately untying the papers and unfolding one to find out what ancient secrets it kept.

Dear Susan,

I wanted to send you this letter as my good bye since I cannot bear to see you when I leave. I don't want to be the reason for your tears, and I want you to remember me as someone you love, not someone who is sad, or someone who causes pain. Please do not worry about me and how I fare in the war, I assure you I'll be back by Christmas. My love will last forever and keep a picture of you by my heart as I fight my way home to you. With these depressing goodbyes, I give you a locket to remind you of me while I'm away and out of your reach.

Until Christmas my love,

-Brian

Who is Brian? I pulled out a file based on this woman's life and went back to the beginning of the war looking for anyone named Brian. That's odd, there is nothing about this guy anywhere that I can find. I start to look through more of the letters and found some dates written on a few of them. There! A name as well. Brian Franklin.

I gently placed the letters in my bag and hooked the locket around my neck. I expanded the mission, and that is to find out who Brian is. Records show that Susan was married to Sean Hawson, how does Brian fit into this? That's what I'm going to find out.

There are pages and pages of records on this guy I found after getting back to my headquarters. Finding Brian a lot easier than I thought it would be, he's currently still alive and residing in San Francisco near Golden Gate Park. The next day, I arrive at a tall grey building, and I do a double take on the address. There's just no way this can possibly be correct, this is San Francisco's psychiatric ward! I can't help but wonder what the war did to him.

"Brian Franklin? Why would you want to see him?" the nurse at the front desk asked me. "He's crazy you know, that's why he's locked up here" she muttered.

"That's fine, please show me the way to his room" I said walking down the hallway

"Here we are," she said, as we arrived at a door. "If you have any problems there's a blue button under the light switch, press that and security will come," the nurse said, leaving me outside Brian's door. I pushed it open and walked in.

"Brian?" I called softly looking around the room for a tall man with light brown hair. When I walked around a corner I almost tripped over a huddled figure; I knelt down and asked him. "Are you Brian Franklin?" He nodded yes to my question. "Were you part of the resistance?" a cold fear crept up into his eyes and he nodded yes very curtly. "Did you know someone by the name of Susan?" he froze, and tears started welling up in his eyes. I went to touch his shoulder in a sign of sympathy; he flinched and moved away from me and curling into a fetal position rocking himself back and forth.

I went on asking him questions for about an hour, I didn't get very far because he refused to speak to me, but everything his eyes said I understood. He was a man of great emotional loss, he'd gone through what most wouldn't ever want to think about. He went off to the war thinking he'd be back by Christmas as his letter said. Instead, it lasted several years and he watched his comrades die before him. Soon after a battle, he was captured and tortured by the enemy for what seemed to him like eternity, lasting about four years. I could tell he'd been treated very badly by all the scars remaining on his body, he was a true veteran of the six year war.

Right before I left, I unhooked the golden locket from around my neck and it dangled it from my hand before him. Brian's eyes widened slightly as his fingertips gently brushed the intricate design on the cover of the locket. Tears once again begun to fall from his hazel colored eyes and his hands now tightly gripped the locket as if it were his only life-line. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but no sound came forth. He continued to try until he whispered out a strangled "I loved her...I loved her so much" I nodded my understanding and turned to the door, my time here is finished.

"Wait.." Brian called after me, struggling to stand up. "Is she still alive?" his eyes begged me to say yes, he stared at me imploringly and it hurt me so much to break the news to him.

"No," I said, "I'm sorry for your losses Brian Franklin." His eyes were downcast but he managed to put a smile on anyway.

"Please Miss, would you tell me your name? You remind me of her" he said. I handed him my card. "Miss. Tremune?" he whispered. I nodded and again, turned to leave. "You're related to Susan" he muttered knowingly, looking at me for an answer.

"She was my grandmother," I choked out. He smiled again.

"So, she married. I'm glad she wasn't alone." He gestured with his hand "Goodbye."

"Goodbye Brian" I closed the door behind me.

This was more of a personal mission than anything else, in fact, I almost got fired for it. I look back and I don't regret anything about it. Several months later I received a letter it almost seemed familiar to me. When I opened it, I recognized the handwriting immediately and my eyes started devouring the words written.

Dear Miss. Tremune,

I wrote this letter right after you left. I'd like to thank you dearly for what you've done for me. The nurses were amazed when I said I wanted a piece of paper and a pen to write to you; they've never heard me speak, they likely will never again. I greatly appreciate what you've done for me I can never repay you. Please visit Susan's grave for me and put the other letter I've included on her tombstone. By the time you read this, I'll be dead, but I've gone in happiness. Until the day my angel Susan comes for me, I'll remain here. Until then, I remain in my silent solitude, something I'm comfortable with and I know it well. You may be confused by my want to remain in silent solitude, but I have no need to talk to anyone. My time is near, which is why I chose to write this after you left. Susan is coming for me, so here I'll wait. The war was never over in my heart.

Sincerely,

Brian Franklin