The Sky I Once Gazed Upon

A Story by Avis Maru

A short story i wrote about the life of a man torn apart by history

I can remember how as a child I used to watch the sky with such admiration, such hope. I only wish I could look upon it now as I did then. If I knew then what I knew now, then I think I wouldn't of made all those decisions all those years ago. Decisions that would create a tangent of demise that would envelop my entire world. This is the story of why I can no longer gaze upon the sky like I could as a child.

I grew up in the small mountain town of Saalbach in northern Austria, it was a quaint town. I remember how in the winter the mountains looked like shards pointed upon the sky. I think it was around when I first started school that I met her, from the first time I gazed upon her, I knew that she would change my life. If I could have only imagined the anguish that quick gaze would later cause.

A few weeks after that first gaze she moved into the small cottage next door. She was only poor so I would go and help her gather wood for the fire. I guess looking back it was a form of pity. It didn't take long for us to connect, oh the joys of blissful ignorance. We would frequently sneak out at night to watch the stars together. She loved drawing. She would draw the stars and the snow-capped mountains that encapsulated our entire world.

Before we knew it we had gone our separate ways. She went to art school in Vienna and I reluctantly joined the army. We kept in touch via letters, I can remember her talking about a boy she knew who had the oddest mustache. I can remember the day vividly the day when the world started on this downward tangent of despair.

I was sat there with my comrades in arms gathered around the radio for the evening mess. I was shocked to discover how the leader of our once great nation was assassinated .By those who we thought were our closest friends. Then I couldn't even have imagined the horror this one action would lead to and how it would change the life of me and even those I was closest to. Not long after we were at war.

I had been chosen to be sent to war. When I told her she started crying tears, tears that echoed throughout the nation’s lovers. If I remember correctly it was on that day that I proposed to her and the day before I was to leave for the frontlines, we were wed. The next day I was sent to hell, a desolate waste land once knows as our neighbours. Even then she still sent me mail.

A few months into deployment was when I had my first letter, it said that she was pregnant. My first thought was that I may never be able to see my son. I remember how I kept that letter in my breast pocket until the second letter came. She had miscarried. That night I cried the anguish of the battle field away, and ran over the top. Not even the pride of our old allies kept me at bay that night.

A few months later I saved a man with the oddest mustache, he had been wounded, and it was odd how he reminded me of what she had once said. We became close and soon after were deployed to the same unit. He didn't talk much, he only sat there and painted that war-torn sky I had come to despise. Everything this man did, reminded me of her. If only I knew the suffering that he would cause me I would have left him to die. Unfortunately we were separated and his fate I was unsure of.

Years passed and the bloodshed continued. I was tasked with documenting the atrocities and suffering. It was about that time when it started to rain. Rain of poison, a poison that even now I resent with my very being. It came down and polluted everything it touched, like a dark miasma claiming the land it once enthralled . There was this one moment when I realised how uncouth my perception had become. I was disturbed to realise that it had become normal to be sitting next to the corpse of the people I had been eating with the night before. But as they say war never changes. Although I can assure you those sent to wars do change.

I spent 6 years in hell and in that time it had claimed my very soul. When I returned she was still waiting, as I once did for her. I remember her running into my very grasp surrounded by the tears that she had kept exclusively for me. I remember how she commented on how rugged my once frail physique I had become. I can remember how I felt that her sombre smile hid the suffering she had to endure because of the decisions of a select few. I was afraid, afraid that she would notice how war had changed me. How I was no longer the boy she once knew.

Soon after our country began to fall to pieces before our very eyes. I decided we should move to a better country for a fresh start. This was the first of the decisions that I have come to regret. I can remember the feeling of resentment in the air, a whole country filled with resentment. Resentment for a single parchment, a text that would force a country into depression and a continent into war. After settling down in our new nation she became depressed, as did the world around us. It seemed even here we could not escape the effects of that hell.

It was about this time I became involved in politics. Little did I know the anguish this would cause. It wasn’t long until I met the man I once saved, he still had that moustache. Little did I know the problems that fate had dealt me. Together I and he got involved in the darker side of politics and I soon began to get in trouble with the law. It wasn't long until we were both arrested.

Whilst in prison I was sent a letter saying that my wife had gone into labour. I was overjoyed until I read the rest of the letter. My child, my first and only child had been born with down syndrome. The doctor said it may have been due to the long term exposure to the toxic wastelands of an almost forgotten war. That night I shed tears of perplexion. I blamed myself for my son’s future suffering. Why did my first child have to be born into a world that would not accept him? I was disgusted with myself.

It wasn't until my sons third birthday that I finally gazed upon him. That very same night I showed him the sky that I and his mother used to gaze upon as children. We sat outside the entire night and gazed into the abyss of hope. Like my wife my son loved to paint the sky but found he couldn’t paint very well . We use to say to him that if there is nothing else to look up to, there is always the sky.

A few years later I re-joined my mustachioed friend after I saw him on a poster. In the years since I went to prison he had gained political power with a party who had nothing but the best intentions. But he was not the same passionate man I once knew. He had been corrupted by the grasp of power and the touch of superiorism. It wasn't long until he had become the shadow leader of our nation.

I remember when I first met him since I went to prison. He had a smile that had been twisted by fate itself. He talked of creating a better country a cleansed country. When I told him of my son he winked to me and said "we can always make exceptions". At that point in time I didn't really know what he meant. Following this he moved us into a nice new house in the nation’s capital and I once again joined the army. Little did I know that once again that familiar stench war was soon upon us.

War quickly swept in like a tempest and like a tempest it left not even ravens to scavenge in its wake. This time though we made not the same mistake past. We conquered our foes and the nation lost its aura of resentment it once had. Nations started to fly our colours to the east west and south. If only I knew the pain and sorrow I was soon to experience. Like a tide our war would soon be on the way out.

It wasn't long until it started to rain again. This time it rained not toxic but fire. I made the decision to relocate my family away from that fire. I quickly returned home to try to lead my family away. Little did I know that the rain of fire was inescapable. Together we escaped to the south. To a smaller city where we were safer. Well at least I assumed we were safe. But in the end that fiery rain proved just how inescapable it was. That fiery rain that came from the skies that we once gazed upon.

I returned to the frontline this time not as a soldier but as a protector. A protector of those whom I loved .Now I look back I was never a very good protector, even back when I first met her. I remember how a few weeks into our first school year she was being bullied because of her drawings. So I tried to defend her, but in the end I got beaten up myself. I guess you could say this was the first time we ever really connected.

We all have those moments in our lives when the world seems to be a tangent spiraling downwards towards you. Those moments when the world at its core seems to want to see you suffer. Those moments are when I feel closest to her these days. I feel as I become closer to death I become closer to her.

I received a letter, a letter I would have rather never received. And I remember how that letter brought me to my knees in desperation. My wife, my only reason to live, had been killed by the fire that came from the sky we once gazed upon. That sky that we had once gazed upon and dreamed, had taken away my only reason to dream. She was the only light on my battlefield filled with shadows. I remember now how she used to smile whenever the clouds broke to reveal that blue velvet sky.

I returned to the city where I was greeted by the mustached man at the station. He came up to me and hugged me and said whilst crying "let me cry for you". By now he was the leader of our nation and to see a normally so composed man crying on my shoulder was a surprise. At that time little did I know that he too loved her until I snatched her away. Little did I know the extent to which he looked after her, when I never could. Have you ever wished you could cry? For you see my corrupt soul could never weep teas for the corruption had spread deep.

I remember feeling my heart drop as the soil slowly started to top her. I remember my son crying out as best he could "what are you doing she won't be able to see the sky". At this point I tried my hardest to cry tears of anger, for how could the sky that she so loved, take her away. Ever since then I couldn't look at the sky without feeling an intense anger. I tried many times to blame myself for what happened, for I could not give up my resentment for that sky.

It wasn't long after that the war took a turn for the worst. No longer having anything to protect I fled with my son. We tried fleeing but with nowhere to go the war quickly followed us. It was at this point I realised just how tight a grip this tangent of sorrow had on me. And I really started to realise just how little I knew and how little I understood the world around me.

When we finished fleeing we were back where this story began. In that small mountain village with the snow-capped mountains that seemed to pierce the heavens. We made our home in the small mountain shack that I used to live next to. In the end we lost our war and my moustachioed friend was never seen again. It was only after the war when the truth came out did I realise just what that wink he gave me on that day really meant.

Even now whilst surrounded by these snow-capped mountains I still resent that sky that my only love once adored. After all that my son still asks to be taken out to look at the sky but I can't forgive that blue sky for all the pain it has caused me.

As I write this in my old age I have come to realise that although I may despise the blue sky, it is the only thing left to remind me of her. I have made many decisions which I have come to regret over time. Many decisions I would rather have not made. But as I think back to days of old I realise that no matter what we do down here, the sky will never change.