Reunited in the Sky
Author's note: I wrote this story while thinking about life and family. Everyone has secrets; sometimes these... Show full author's note »
ReflectionI hear the voices of my family members calling my name.
“Matthew! Matthew!” they call, begging for help.
I used to seek shelter in the warm, loving arms of my family. Loneliness and fear are my only visitors. My life used to be simple and carefree. Now, I am alone, afraid, and trapped in a never ending nightmare.
Life was serene in the ancient town of Safe Haven. The birds swarmed the trees, uplifting the town with melodious songs. The docks belched mechanical sounds and filled everyone with an adventurous spirit. People were content; the quality of life was one of the best in the country. Families from around the country flocked to Safe Haven in search of safety. Records validated the town’s name, as the cheery settlement was untouched by any impurities. The coast land was sheltered by the cliffs and high peaks enveloped the entire area. War and plagues were insignificant; Safe Haven seemed impregnable. However, this sense of safety shrouded the citizens' minds with ignorance. No one could have predicted what would happen.
My family moved to the town seven years ago from Fargus, a settlement of the extremities of the country. We arrived in late October. My parents, John and Stephanie Amuletta, decided the move was required, but they would not tell me why. My brother Trevor and I were carried along, leaving friends behind. I was ten years old and Trevor was only seven years old. Our life in Fargus vanished and we were forced to rebuild in Safe Haven.
My mother’s stomach was swollen with pregnancy. Everyone could tell my father was tense; he wanted to have Mother settled for the arrival of their daughter. He drove through the lively streets, stopped at the town hall in the center of Safe Haven, and stepped inside.
“I need to speak with the mayor; it is urgent!” he screamed. “My wife is nearly ready to give birth to my child and I need a house.”
A small, crippled man crept out a dark office and timidly shook my father’s hand. “Hello, sir. My name is Christopher Denser. I am the mayor of Safe Haven,” the man said. “What can I do for you?”
Father smiled with hope. “Thank you, sir! I apologize for my rashness. I need a house and the price does not matter. I have the appropriate funds and we plan on staying in Safe Haven.”
“Oh well, you are in luck!” the mayor said as he pointed down the hall. “The Carson family just left and their home is for sale. Come with me and you can sign the paperwork.”
My father followed Mayor Denser down an airy hallway into his private office. The mayor stepped around his desk and sat down in a plush, leather armchair. A sigh of fatigue escaped his lips as he bent over, shuffling through a drawer. He pulled himself upwards and cringed as the pain of arthritis rippled through his body. Stacks of papers landed on the desk top and the mayor handed my father a golden pen.
“Now, John, sign these papers and hand me the money. I will have my assistants escort you to your new residence,” the mayor said. My fathers grasped the pen and pushed it across the paper. He moved his fingers nimbly, writing his name in large, thick letters. Mayor Denser retrieved the pen as Father stood up.
“I will return shortly,” my father said. He smoothed his suit against his body and walked out of the office.
He came back to the car and opened the trunk. From the trunk, he pulled out a black, shiny suitcase. He opened the suitcase which contained seven different types of money. Trevor and I nosily peeked out the windows of the car. After seeing the contents of the case, I turned back to face the front window. Trevor continued to stare, thirsty for knowledge. I had already learned about the bundles of money at home.
Before traveling to Safe Haven, my father and mother wanted to teach me the new culture in the town. I learned about the people, the food, and the currency. The economy in Safe Haven revolves around seven different bills. In order of highest value to lowest, I learned that the seven types of money were: superbia, invidia, ira, socors, avaritia, abdomia, and clarus. I remember learning what each word meant, but I forgot due to the stress of the move. However, I do know only the wealthy citizens of Safe Haven would possess superbias; peasants were lucky to receive a few measly abdomia and clarus.
After counting one bundle of superbia, several bundles of invidia, three of ira, and nine of socors, Fathers slammed the trunk shut. My mother smiled at him warmly, excited about the new house. Trevor and I remained very still. We were strangers in this new, alien city. Father grinned at us and strolled back into the town hall. I scanned the town square, observing the people and buildings. One structure instantly caught my attention: the fountain.