Slipper - PART 1A Story by Sachi RuayaUNFINISHED!! Most organisations, operations and locations exist but the story is purely the author's. Operation Slipper. Where my father was last deployed...where he lost his very life...Sachiko Mochiko
SLIPPER September 10, 2018
My father died on the day I was born. Ma would always tattle me about him. There was not one single day that she would not talk about him. She would describe how she met him whilst dying the white sections of her hair, how he loved busking and how sweet he was since he sent instant pictures every second month through the mail. She would also tell me about the terrorist attacks in New York and Washington on September 2001 and the operation that my father was last deployed by the name of Operation Slipper.
“On the airport, I was nauseous about the deployment,” Ma nods her head from left-to-right and fiddles with her watch that loosely clutches her left wrist, glittering its rose-gold twinkle, “It was not until we kissed goodbye that I held back the words, that I knew, will not sway his determination to go.” Listening to her pack bags for tomorrow, I lay my most formal suit on the bed "pending for ironing. Suddenly, my mother chuckled, “Well, what could have friggin’ happened anyway?”
September 11, 2018
The subtle, fresh sweetness of the early air respire through my body. Morning. I head towards the kitchen, ignoring the painfully numbing tiles, I pick up the freshly ironed suit to visit the Springvale War Cemetery "where the remains of my father’s remains lay. Usually, at the death anniversary of my father, Ma would overload me with blather about my father. Sometimes to the point way beyond my comprehension. But today is utterly different. Ma’s head hung low, at heart, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Is this my lunch?”
“Hm…” Ma ploddingly nods, clutching her watch.
That’s it. Conversation over.
The journey "of an hour- was no different. The jazz music’s soft bass resonates throughout the blue hooptie, words are unspoken between us. It was not until Ma drove to Princes Highway my tongue reached its breaking point, “Stop giving me that damn silent treaty! What’s wrong?” “Watch. Your. Mouth.” Ma’s voice is monotone. Her stern pitch-black eyes ignore my choice to turmoil like a deep, dark, cold abyss. Her white roots blend into her newly dyed sections of hair. I notice her hair is down "another unusual figure. I start to feel uneasy. Swirls of thick anxiety wavered in my chest. We are…here. © 2017 Sachi RuayaAuthor's Note
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1 Review Added on November 20, 2017 Last Updated on November 20, 2017 Tags: war, deployment, death, victoria, war cemetery, cemetery, grave, springvale, australia, botanical, mystery, thriller, descriptive AuthorSachi RuayaVictoria, AustraliaAboutSachi is an observant art lover who takes pride in her strong verbal and written communication skills as she regards her love for learning. She highly values collaboration and efforts to create innova.. more..Writing
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