IMPERMANENCE - A short story dedicated to Ukraine.

    

2026, an inconsequential village in Ukraine, 2 months after the war.

This story deals with sensitive topics such as hallucinations and the brutal after-effects of war.

I rested my head against the bark of a crumbling oak tree, gazing up at the sky, where the last few rays of moonlight illuminated the countless stars twinkling down on me. The fresh smell of dried leaves and crisp air assaulted my nostrils, and I sat up, cracking an eye open just as a ball of fur collided with me and sent me rolling down the side of the grassy hill. I laughed, pressing my nose against the shimmering golden pelt of my dog, Anya, crushed against me, and we looked at each other. I stood, and she followed me, her majestic frame haloed by the moon, which was slowly fading into the ether. But we didn’t need the light. The two of us knew this area as well as we did the battlefield.

We slowed as we reached a beautiful clearing, and I wondered if the rustling trees and chirping insects were loud enough to stifle the slow but sure thump of my heart. Probably not. I sat, pulling Anya down with me, and her warmth seeped into my skin as we gazed at the shimmering river. Sapphire waves moved steadily along their path, and I coveted their stability, longed for the consistency they had in their lives. We sat there together until the insects eventually ended their tirade and the moon vanished from sight, drawing comfort from each others’ presence. A beautiful sense of contentment washed over me, and it wasn’t marred by screams of anguish or the spread of deep red blood, the difference that made nearly taking my breath away. This was the only place we had where we could truly be ourselves, an oasis of calm obscured from a world racked with torture and suffering. While we were still nestled in the tranquillity of this beautiful night, it seemed as though I was lost to an enchantment that brought all of my deepest, most innate fantasies to life; but I knew that the cresting sun over the horizon would break the spell. The morning brought with it reality, immense pain and suffering, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to face it all, wasn’t sure of the strength I would require not to buckle under the weight of my responsibilities.

She shifted in my arms, and I cradled her soft head, breathing in her sweet smell. “Sleep,” I whispered. “You need it.” Her wide, brown eyes peered up at me from under her long sun-kissed lashes before she closed them, and the multitude of emotions I found there sent a deep tremor coursing through my veins. The spark of excitement that used to be ever-present in her gaze had now dimmed to a low-burning flame which desperately needed stoking.

When the sun began to illuminate the sky in the early hours of the morning, I shook her awake and we trudged through the woods, the silence filled by the sounds of the forest, which came alive as we wandered into its crevices. We finally reached a small cottage of thatch and straw, with long strands of honeysuckle clinging to its sides. I laughed as she jumped and caught one of its flowers in her mouth, chewing and licking her lips in satisfaction as the sweet nectar burst on her tongue. My parents greeted us as we strode into the house, though they looked a little wary. They had been so, ever since I returned home from the War.

“I’ll heat up some rice for you right away,” my mother said with a warm smile, and I thanked her, sitting at the table. She turned to the kitchen without acknowledging Anya’s presence, and I frowned. She usually greeted Anya with a big hug and a bowl of food. “I think Anya needs some food as well,” I called. “We walked quite a bit today.”

Both of my parents froze, and they exchanged worried glances. My father put a hand on my shoulder, and some unreadable emotion swam in his eyes…was it pity? “Lily,” he said softly. “Anya isn’t with us any more. She was shot in combat three months ago.” He bowed his head. “I’m sorry.”

All of a sudden, I couldn't see her anymore, and my whole world stilled.

 I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear the clatter the chair made as it fell to the floor. I collapsed, and my father’s arms gripped me, holding me tightly as I convulsed in agony, teetered on the edge of chaos. And the anguish that would cause me would be such bliss compared to the utter torment of my reality. The pain in me was like a living being; it ricocheted off the walls of my body, leaving tendrils of excruciating flames behind as I choked on the tears streaming down my face. My every thought was consumed by the ghost of her face, her wet black nose, her silky ears, her smile which lit up a world otherwise filled with darkness and pain. I could hear my soul shattering, could see the fragments as they blinded me with countless memories I didn’t dare stop to dwell on. She was like a burning torch, so full of light and brightness and hope, marred by the cruelty of men too single-minded to think beyond their own greed and unending quest for power.

Closing my eyes, I could remember her bounding forward with panic in her eyes as friends and brothers died in front of us. I saw the metal-tipped bullet zipping towards her, heard the whisper of air it created as it burrowed itself in her chest, and felt myself falling apart for a second time as I questioned how such an inconsequential sound could make my whole world vanish in a matter of seconds.

Not Anya. She was too innocent, too sweet, too pure, to be corrupted and tainted by this otherworldly evil. She was my only hope in a world fraught with suffering, the sole reason for my mind to crave freedom from its own demons. But who could take comfort from a word like hope anymore? It was a farce. She had given me dreams and aspirations beyond anything I deserved, and she was taken away from me before I could give her even a fraction of the love she rained down on me. I had claimed her as my own, and she claimed me right back. We were bound to each other, connected by a love so fierce my insides burned with the intensity of it. In a way, she was more powerful than even the most vicious enemies I had ever faced, and it went so far beyond her claiming ownership of my heart. Hearts could be ruptured, shredded, broken. Anya had captured my soul, and that meant that she could destroy me in ways they never could.

I wished that I could take it all back, that I could return to the serenity of our spot in the woods and stay there forever, with her nestled in the safety of my arms. The War had taken everything from me. I didn’t blame the soldiers who fought against me. I blamed whoever had made a platform for innocent people to ruthlessly massacre each other because of a single person’s lust for dominance. A wise person once said that a soldier fights not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him. And as I lay on the ground, eyes closed in beautiful stillness, I couldn’t help but think that I had lost one of my only reasons to fight.