Undead Love.

January 4th, 1942.

A family of four stand out on the front porch of their home, sheltering from the falling rain. The cracked paint work reveals the old, dry wood behind and hanging baskets add color to the plain porch. The rain begins to fall heavier and the pathway and garden beyond the house become a blur.

The mother, a beautiful young woman, weeps silently and as the cold morning air nips at her bare chest she pulls her cardigan tight around herself.

A girl of five years tugs at her father’s hand, bringing him to kneel in front of her, and she wraps her arms around his neck, finding comfort in the warmth of his body against the wind. “I don’t want you to go, Daddy.” She continues to beg and plead with him. His bottom lip quivers but he refuses to let his daughter see him cry. He holds her in an embrace which he is unwilling to break but she pulls away and runs back to her mother, hiding her tear soaked face in the soft material of her dress. “I love you, Lily.” He calls after her.

An older girl of ten years steps towards him now and holds her father lovingly. “Let me go with you, father.” He smiles and shakes his head. “I can look after you.” She urges. Her father moves her away, holding her at arm’s length. He throws a glance over her shoulder to his wife. “I need you to stay here and look after your mother and your sister. Can you do that?” She doesn’t look away from him, nor does she speak. She simply nods.

“Thank you, Sara.”

He stands and takes his eldest daughter by the hand, leading her towards her mother. Sara moves away from her father and gently takes her younger sister aside, allowing Lily to cry on her shoulder.

Her father places his hands on her mother’s shoulders and allows a single tear to roll down his cheek. “Cindy?” After a short pause she flings her arms around him and cries into his chest. “Must you go?” She asks. He nods and wipes the tears from her face.

“I was conscripted, I must.”

“You come back to me.” Cindy cries.

“I love you, Cindy.”

She pulls away and cups her husband’s face in her hands. “Promise me.”

He turns and picks up his luggage but before he leaves he presses his lips tenderly against hers. “I promise.” He whispers.

As Cindy and her children watch the man of their house disappear into the rain, she whispers back.

“I love you, Sam Miles.”