Fan Fiction ❯ The Wage of Duty ❯ The Wager of Duty ( Chapter 1 )

The Wager of Duty by Jenny644443855

 

It was almost dusk. A seemingly young maiden was sitting at her desk, the light from the kerosene lamp nearby providing a soft glow in the dark hour. The maiden was no ordinary maiden, for she, in a period of three short years, had aged almost forty years. The light flickered, as if saluting the thunder which was brewing in the milky air outside. She shuddered in the cold, and then picked up a sheet of paper, pen, and ink. She lightly placed the ink on the desktop and opened the lid. She waited for all the bubbles to settle before she dipped in the pen. Finally, she was able to write.

She lightly tapped the paper with the pen, and then started scribbling down her letter, in her custom cursive:

 

Dear William,

Hello there. As you may know from my writing, this is Amelia, your wife. I hope you aren't going lunatics out there on the battlefield. Are you having a nice day? Now don't lie to me, and haughtily reply, “I'm fine,” like those days when you get back from the hospital before going back to fight with your comrades. I must say, you have changed from what you once were when you set foot in that trench almost two years ago. I do miss you…ever since that first battle you never consoled in me like you used to. Now all you do is go with your pals at that pub down the street.

Silly old me, always worried about you. I hope you don't get tired of me. What I wonder the most is if you've forgotten about me, so far away from home. Good ol' England…you can't be having a better time away from here, are you? I hope you are well entertained. You looked so bored after you recovered from that sickness you got from that last battle. You wouldn't stop shivering! I don't know why those folks from the hospital sent you home…you were still clearly sick! I was so afraid…it seemed as though the “shock” would never go out of you! But you recovered after a month or so, and worried me to bits when you went to meet your father at the pub. Weeks afterward, you went happily trotting back to war…

I don't know what's so good about war. The first time you came back from the war field, you looked so miserable. You didn't even want to go back, but reluctantly did so…I could never forget that look on your face when you walked out of that accursed door, right out of my life again. I promised myself right then: the next time you came back, I would never let you go again. But, like all young men that went to war, you were transformed. You will never be the same William I married, but I still love you as much. I think you get quite a kick from worrying me so.

There hasn't been a moment that I haven't thought about you, Will. Your laugh, your smile…there hasn't been a moment when they haven't popped in my head each day. I don't know what I'd do in my life without you. Ever since we met, I was madly in love with you. Be safe, William. I hope you're well entertained, and have a good meal to eat everyday. I wish you luck in your passage back to our humble abode.

 

Always waiting,

Amelia Hartman

 

`That was it', she thought, sighing deeply as relaxation washed over her very being. She was now convinced that her husband was going to be alright. He was going to come home as soon as he got injured. All she'd have to do is wait until he was released from the hospital, then he would come home to see her! A giddy giggle emitted from her mouth, and then she covered it and got herself back under control. She folded her letter neatly, and then tucked it into one of the open envelopes that was on the shelf. Sealing it with care, she sat it on her desktop. When William got home, she would show him the letter that she had written for him. She could picture it all clearly in her head: He would sweep in the door, clad in his uniform, then plop into a vacant chair. She would then give him some freshly prepared black tea and present the letter to him. He would sigh and read it, his eyes hanging onto every word of her imperfect handwriting. He'd then turn to her and scold her, telling her to stop worrying so much and concentrate on her “duty”. As soon as she got to it, `duty' broke her concentration.

`Duty, stupid duty,' she thought, sitting back in her chair. `It's always the women who have to do all the work, while the men fight their stupid wars and drink liquor in the pub. It wasn't fair! Men were all puddin's, the lot of `em. Then all women are left to do are raise their children and worry. There's nothing but hard work in store for women.' She pouted, and then sat up in her chair. She turned to the grandfather clock that was once her grandmother's. `It's 5:06.'

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. `A message? At this time?' she thought, worry sweeping through her. `It can't be for me, not for me.' The knock came again, this time more demandingly. `Messages are bad, bad things. In these times, they signify…' Her thoughts ran wildly, and she shook the notion out of her head. `Death. It's not about my husband. It could be…a good thing! Like, the war is over! That's what it is…the war's finally over!' Even with that settled in her head, she had trouble convincing herself to open the door. A third and final knock turned the tides over to her will and she shuffled to the door, yelling out “Coming!”

She swung open the door, revealing a pallid messenger in the usual garb.

“Yes?” she asked, putting on a semi-smile.

“I have a message for a Mrs. Hartman. Are you her?”

“Ah-yes, I am. What is the message about?”

Instead of an answer, he shoved an envelope into her hand. He then bid a swift farewell and then walked in the direction of the next block.

She shut the door with a sigh. `That wasn't a bad omen,' she said repetitively to herself. She sat in her favorite chair and opened the seal on the envelope. Once open, she pulled out a small note, and unfolded it. The note read:

 

Dear Mrs. William Hartman,

We are sorry to inform you that your husband has passed away. Do not fret, for he has valiantly sacrificed himself for a noble cause. With his help, as like many unfortunate soldiers who had also passed away, the Allies have won the war. We are currently discussing peace treaties. We are sorry for your loss.

 

Her eyes widened considerably. Her breath quickened and she hastened to calm herself down. `William was…William is…'

 

`Dead.' The fact rooted deep into her brain. She began to weep fervently, at a loss of what to do.

“William!” She yelled, even though she knew he wasn't there.

“Why did you leave me? WHY?! What am I going to do without you? Tell me!!”

 

And she continued to cry and rant, even until the dusk crept into the very moon itself and there was no light.