My flash fiction story.
Dear Dad,
The paper says that you’re a traitor and the king doesn’t trust you anymore. I asked Mom what happened, but she told me to never talk about you again.
What happened? Where are you?
Love,
J
Dad,
They’re saying they dumped your body in the sea, but I don’t think you’re actually dead. The other soldiers don’t know what they’re talking about… They’ve never seen you swim. I hope the waves will bring you these letters.
Missing you,
J
Dear Dad,
It’s been a year since the accident. One year since Uncle Mason became Captain of the Guard and gave a speech about how disappointed he was in the last Captain –you. He also told me we’re lucky (me and Mom) to be spared from execution, even though we’re the family of a traitor.
He was your best friend, Dad, how can he say all those things? I know you didn’t conspire against the king. You couldn’t have.
I miss you so much, when are you coming home? I think Mom also misses you, she just doesn’t want anyone to know.
Much love,
J
Hi Dad,
Mom doesn’t know why I’ve been going to the ocean a lot and I can’t tell her I’m sending you these letters.
I know she’ll call me crazy and might even forbid me from writing at all. It’s been tough since you left. Nobody here wants to hire Mom, nor any school accept me. Our family is tainted in the eyes of these people and nobody believes me when I try to claim your innocence. Even Mom doesn’t want me to. She thinks you’re guilty, Dad.
I don’t understand what happened. Please come home and tell me.
Your son,
J
To Dad,
Six years ago I left home for good, to seek for employment in faraway lands where I could start anew. Word came that Mom fell terribly sick, so I returned home as soon as I could. I arrived just in time. Mom was still an outcast, although our neighbours were kinder when she was on her deathbed.
I also understand now that you’re probably dead, but I’ve grown to the habit of talking to you this way. Perhaps somewhere somehow you’re reading my letters.
From J
Dearest Dad,
It’s been too many years and too many bottles thrown into the sea. I’ve come to accept your death long ago; these letters are merely a fancy of my childhood days. I feel obliged to keep writing, for I fear that stopping means forgetting you.
I know now that is not the case, therefore this is the last you’ll hear from me.
Forever your son,
J
Dad,
I know last time I said it was the last. But Mikael (remember that curly-haired lad from my spar class? He’s Captain now) found a letterbox in the attic of the Captain’s quarters addressed to you, from an anonymous sender. There was a whole stack, and I still can’t believe what I’ve read. I would never have believed those words. But then Mikael showed me an unfinished letter written in a different hand than the others, addressed not to you but your correspondence.
I remember your cursive, Dad, there’s no mistaking it now.
I can’t fool myself anymore. You did try to kill the king, I don’t know why and I don’t care why. Not anymore. How could you have lied to me? All this time, I’ve trusted you and stood by you, even as the kingdom and your own wife condemned you.
It turns out I’ve wasted my whole life on false hope. I’m sorry I tried reaching out to you. Goodbye.
J.
This was written in 2018 and first published on deviantArt. If you enjoyed this, read my flash fiction that also features a father-son relationship here.