Calvin Mulcahy

Humanities

Why
The sun was slowly starting to peek through my window curtains, creating a thin
line of light that stretched across my room like a greedy mans hand, reaching for some
unseen treasure. Realizing what day it was I quickly jerked the covers off of myself and
swung my feet off the bed, sitting up at the same time. My black hair, falling just below
my ears was a mess. I could feel my dark blue eyes glowing with excitement for this
day. It was my twelfth birthday and I was filled with enthusiasm for the fact that my
father promised to take me to a place that he would only describe as special. Rubbing
the sleep from my eyes I stood and, although my body was groaning with tiredness I
raced towards the bathroom, a skip in my step.
I prepared the bath for myself and quickly stripped off my night gown. After one
of the fastest baths of my life I raced down the steps that ended at the back of the
ballroom. When I got to the bottom of the steps I turned to my left and swiftly went
through the dining room. The tale was long, being able to seat fifteen people, and set
with a delicate white lace table cloth. My mother had picked roses and had a bouquet
placed beautifully on the center of the table, adding a strong fragrance to the room. I
could picture her pruning her roses in the garden and thought about how when I was
little I would follow her around her lush gardens, playing while she perfected her flowers.
Taking my place at the far end of the table nearest the kitchen I glanced at the empty
chairs at the head of the table on either side of me where my parents would sit. I
thought about how I would one day have ownership over the manor and that would be
where my wife and I would sit. Then I started to think about how my parents were trying
to have another child. This meant that I would no longer be the only heir. I smiled
though at the thought of being an older brother. I looked forward to having a sibling.
Although my parents want a daughter and I am okay with that, secretly I would love to
have a younger brother. I pulled myself out of my daydream and finally noticing my plate
in front of me could now smell the scrambled eggs and sausage. With the only sound
being my silverware clicking on my plate, I ate my breakfast alone. After I was done I
returned to the ballroom to await my father and my surprise. The anticipation gnawing at
me mad it feel like hours that I sat there.
Your up early a deep voice came down from the top of the stairs. I looked up to
see my father. He was a tall, broad shouldered man. His hair was blonde and just
brushed the top of his ear. His jaw was square and he had eyes that were a brighter
blue than mine. I always thought he was a handsome man. Without waiting for me to
ask he said the car is waiting out front, go and get in, I will be along soon. I responded
yes father as I jetted out the giant doors leading to the front driveway. As I left the
silver gate that ran around the house the car came into view, it was black and glossy
and looked like a starless night sky, it seemed to hold all of the anticipation and
excitement that I had for the upcoming day. When I reached the car I ran my hand along

Calvin Mulcahy
Humanities

its surface, it was smooth and it vibrated with the hum of the engine. I opened my door,
got in, and waited for my father
A few hours later my father and I were bumping along down the road. We had
not talked since we left the house but I could be quiet no longer. Where are we going
father, and why are you taking me to this place? My father seemed to come out of
some deep thought, turning to me he calmly spoke. This place, where we are going, is
where your mother and I first met. I became confused. Why are you taking me there?
I inquired, confused as to why this was so special on my birthday. My father opened his
mouth, paused and not speaking I could tell he was pondering whether to tell me or not.
Finally he spoke, Im leaving Cecil, Britain has declared war on Germany and I am
going to join the army. The words paralyzed me. I stopped breathing and felt light
headed. Black spots started to form in my vision and suddenly it was dark.
My father, a peaceful man and not one that I thought would ever resolve to
fighting over a disagreement or different beliefs was now telling me that he was going to
war. I could not imagine what life was going to be like without him.
When I woke we were outside, a slight breeze ran through my body and gave me
a chill, stirring me from the blackness. I could hear the leaves rustling in the trees above
me. As I opened my eyes I could see trees all around me. I was lying on a bench and
as I sat up I saw my father standing on a bridge a short distance out from the trees. The
wind blowing through his hair. I slowly got up and made my way over to my father.
Hugging him I began to cry. I love you. I said through my tears. The breeze carried my
words away so I was unsure if my father heard me or not.
I love you too, no matter what. my father finally replied.
After this there was a long silence and we stood there on the bridge listening to
the wind blow through the trees and watched as it calmly blew ripples in the water
flowing under the bridge, slowly pushing time along. It seemed for us though that time
was standing still at this moment. Not moving, not evening daring to flinch. I wished we
could stay like this forever, I did not want to let my father go but I knew I had to. My
father was a strong man and always made good decisions and followed through with
them. Once his mind was made up on how to handle a situation it was done, there was
no changing things.
I slowly started to loosen my grip on my father and as I backed away softly said,
Its beautiful. My father just nodded in response. I reached back for my fathers hand
and he tightly curled his fingers around my hand and squeezed. After a while my father
explained that why he decided to go to war was for my future . If he chose not to help
fight this battle against the Germans that we would be taught to hate Jewish people and
that the Nazis are the perfect race. If Great Britain was taken over by Hitlers ruining my
education would not be as good as it is. I would only be able to read books written by
Hitler and all other books would be burned.

Calvin Mulcahy
Humanities

Slowly we walked towards the car, once a clean black whose gloss you could
see your reflection in but now, like my day, lost all its excitement and shine. The ride
back to the house was even longer than the ride to the bridge. The outside world
slumped by as if weighed down by the sorrows that today brought. Through out the ride
one thing kept running through my mind, what would happen when he was gone, what
would become of my mother? I didnt have to wait long for the answer to that question.
When finally the slow, painful drive back home was over my worries almost
seemed to drift away. I was home, I felt calm, I felt safe here and for a moment that
everything would be fine. I thought that even though my father might be gone for some
time that I would still have my mother. I would again be able to spend time with her in
her gardens as she worked and she could tell me stories of my father. Suddenly the
front door burst open and a maid came tearing across the driveway towards us. Her
shrieking pulled me from my peacefulness and I could see the tears running from her
face, falling from her chin. When she reached us my father hastily grabbed her arm and
pulled her close and whispered something in her ear. She stepped back, taking a deep
breath and, without saying anything, nodded back to my father.
What is wrong? I said the maid. My father quickly interrupted, not giving her a
chance to respond. Nothing is wrong, there is no need for you to be concerned.
Without even looking at me he turned and walked to the house. I started to follow but
the maid grabbed me by my sleeve and held me back. I think it would be better if you
stayed here. she said, her voice cracking and her lip quivering as she was still trying to
hold back her tears.
Tell me what is wrong! I demanded, yelling at her. My heart started beating
quickly and i could feel my cheeks burning red as coles. Something was very wrong and
I wanted to know. At that moment a groan came from the open doors of the house and
the maid became distracted. I used this moment to pull away from her grip and run
toward the house, the maid immediately started running after me screaming for me to
stop. I was smaller and faster and was able to get away from her. As I reached the door
I could hear more moans. Following them in to the kitchen I became aware that the
moans were coming from my father. My feet slapped against the tile of the dining floor
as I ran through. When I reached the kitchen door I halted to a dead stop. A feeling of
dread washed over me and the only thought that came with it was of my mother. I
slowly pushed open the kitchen door and the smell of blood hit me. My lungs filled with
the horrible stench of rust. the door creaked as I opened it and I saw my father kneeling
on the floor. His figure was quivering, his head hunched over. He no longer looked like
the strong broad shouldered man I knew, but instead a weak frail child. In his lap lay my
mother, her face seemed flawless, her emerald green eyes were closed. Her cheeks
were a faded rosy red, just like the flowers in her garden. Her hair fell in black tendrils,
and everywhere there was blood. It pooled from my mothers chest and onto the floor.
And lying on the floor, gleaming in blood was a knife. It was then that the maid came

Calvin Mulcahy
Humanities

into the dining room, she gasped and ran over to close the door, shielding me from
anymore. I stood, shocked and not able to move. Shes dead. Gone forever.
Every thing became a blur, the maid that was with me took me over to the table
and sat me down in a chair. She started to talk to me but I couldnt hear anything. I
figured she was saying sorry but I didnt know for sure. I just kept picturing my mother ,
when she was alive, her long black hair falling softly on her shoulders. Her green eyes
seemed to smile with a laughter that was catching. Her smile was so sweet and loving.
When the maid had finally finished saying what she was she got up and went into the
kitchen, and I caught one last glimpse of my mother and the blood that covered the
floor.
That was three years ago, I now live with my foster father. Even after my
mother's death my father still went off to war. I could not understand how even after a
life changing event that he would not reconsider his decision to join the war efforts. But
this was a part of my father that I did not understand, to stick with a decision no matter
what. The maids took care of me while my father was gone, but six months after he left I
received a letter telling me that my father was killed. The maids could no longer take
care of me and the manor, along with all its belongings had to be sold. The dining room
table that I once thought I would take my dads place at with my wife was gone forever. I
was sent to an orphanage for a year. When I was finally adopted I thought that life was
going to get just a little better for me. Now I sleep in a closet, my foster mother passed
away and my foster father became a drunk and started beating me. I had a mother who
loved me and a father who wanted nothing more than to provide the best for his family.
Why would my father not change his mind and stay home after my mother died? Why
would my mother take her own life? Was the fear of losing my father in the war that
great that she couldnt bear to live anymore? Was the thought of what would happen to
our lives if Hitler took over so unbearable? Now my thoughts wander to what my life
will be like after I escape this prison. All of this happened because of a war and yet I
still hear people glorify it and talk of it as if it were something to enjoy. The only thing I
ask is why?