Coming Home

I´m tired. 

It was a long train ride home. 

My mother will be overjoyed to have me back, healthy and unharmed. 

My father will be proud of me.

I his only son, in the tradition of our family equal to his grandfather, 

who was revered as a hero throughout the village. 

I just don't feel like a hero at all.

Another stop. 

The sun is almost going down. I forgot how beautiful sunsets can be. 

They will be waiting at the train station. 

My mother was overjoyed when I told her on the phone that I will coming home for Christmas. 

She will cook my favorite dish and cry with joy all the time. 

My father will ask me many questions, but what should I tell, 

how proud I am and what honor it is for me? 

So many of my friends won't be with their families for Christmas. Never again! 

My father will praise my courage, but I was only afraid, every single minute, naked fear.

Proud? of what? what I did will haunt my dreams forever.

We have arrived.

I can see my mother she cries like so many mothers these days, but her tears are tears of joy.

We were 20 young men who were sent from our village to the homes of other young men, and I'm the only one left to get off this train and be with his family right now even if it's just for a few days for  Christmas.

247 Words

Inspiration: Russian invasion in Ukraine 

Word Count: 339
Hours Spent: 2
Software Used: Daz Studio 4, twinmotion, davinci, gimp