Hope and Love

By Susie Morgan

The desire to swallow was great. The pain when he tried was greater. William coughed and shuddered in agony. Curling up in misery, he lay on the floor hoping for oblivion. After weeks of captivity even the comfort of his religion was gone. He’d clung on, hoping for some revelation but there had been no vision, no voice in the dark void, only hurt and suffering. When the moment came when William thought he couldn’t take any more, a small sound jolted him out of his despair. Lifting his head up off the dirt floor, he strained to hear what it was. Crawling over to the little vent in the wall, William pressed his ear near. Two men brawling outside blocked out the sound and his head dropped in defeat. Then, the sound filled his prison, clear and sweet. Someone was playing a tin flute. Before he could hear anymore his captors came into the room.

This time, when he came round, William didn’t move, lying still while he counted his injuries. He reckoned he had a broken finger, probably a few broken ribs as well as lacerated skin all over his back. Glancing up to the high, small window, William could see that it was light but there was nothing to indicate whether it was still the same day or the next or even the day after that. It had been a severe beating but not worse than any he’d had before. A small bowl of water and thin, cold soup lay nearby and he debated whether to accept the filthy offering or starve himself to death to escape the misery. As his head touched the floor, the tinkling sound of the flute floated through the vent and this time clearly filled the room. Tears sprang to his eyes to think that such beauty still existed, that somewhere out there that life went on as normal.

William didn’t know the tune. Whoever was playing the flute knew what they were doing; there wasn’t one single bad note. The song had a haunting melody, sad but in parts uplifting and soulful. Not realising what he was doing, William reached out and took a drink followed by the tasteless, watery soup. He didn’t notice the aftertaste, the strange things floating in the liquid, his concentration solely on the music and then suddenly, the tune was joined by a voice. A girl’s voice, very young and very melodic. William could feel the joy as the girl sang out of beautiful fields, family and friends who had departed this world and would be seen again and of love. And those were the words that William clung to; hope and love.

Every day, no matter what happened to him, William listened out for the music. Sometimes, there was only the flute and if he was lucky, the girl would join in. He spent his time imagining what their lives were like. Were they father and daughter? Brother and sister? He would never know. Slowly, William began to eat and drink a little more, just so he would have the strength to crawl over and hear the tunes a little better. Some days it was a sad tune but most days the melody was cheerful, and shone a little light into William’s darkness. There was always only one song, the unseen show never ran to more. He clung to those precious moments for they were the only thing that gave him comfort.

Days passed, each with a different, solitary tune. The beatings lessened though the quality of food stayed the same. Each day, William eagerly anticipated the flute player and the girl singer. Each day, he was not disappointed. For too brief a moment, he was taken away from the squalid, cruel place he now called home. And he knew that for a little time each day his life was bearable.

But it was too good to last. On a day that brought dark clouds and gusty winds, guards dragged him from the cell and beat him for no good reason than they were bored. As William was thrown back onto the bare floor, he laid waiting for the song, hoping that he hadn’t missed it as he was being pummelled black and blue. There was no song that day. Or the day after. At first, William argued to himself that he had missed it or that the dark clouds had persuaded them not to hang around the street. Another day passed and another. William pushed the drink and food away. The despair was worse than before the music had entered his life. Before he had nothing, then for a little while he had a tiny glimpse of something. William wasn’t sure what it was, he only knew that it had embedded in his heart and lightened his darkness. Now he had less than nothing.

As he closed his eyes and prayed to the God who had abandoned him, William heard a noise. It wasn’t the sweet sound of the singer but shouting, banging and cursing. The door flung open.

"We’ve come to free you."

William opened an eye and looked across. He was hallucinating. He could see a soldier.

"You don’t need to talk. Let us get you out of here, cleaned up and checked over."

He didn’t care if he was imagining the man or not, he needed to talk to someone. "I’m free."

"You’re free."

He was lifted onto a stretcher and carried out into the open air. Just as William drifted into sleep, he thought he heard the beginnings of a tune. The tune that had saved his life.

Three weeks later, when the physical wounds were on their way to fading but the mental and emotional damage was still to be dealt with, William made his way into the village. He looked at the outside of the cell where he had been incarcerated. Gripping onto his nurse, he trembled at the memory.

"William, if this is too difficult, we can go back."

"No, I have to find something, someone."

"Who?"

"I don’t know yet."

He stared around the street, looking for some clue as where he could find the music. All around, people rushed about their business or sat about on stools, just watching the world go by. William stood staring, minutes ticking by.

"I think we should go now." The nurse took hold of William’s elbow.

"No. I need a little more time."

"We have to be getting back soon."

"I know, just give me a moment."

As he heard shouting, William had a flashback to the day he lay in his prison and first heard the music. Then, as the noise died down, he heard the first notes of a tune.

"Where’s that coming from?" William’s eyes darted all over, searching for his salvation.

"I think it’s down the next street."

"Let’s go find them. It’s important."

They stood in the shadows watching an old man, obviously blind and what looked like his granddaughter, standing begging by a shop doorway. The notes from the flute were clear and perfect. Suddenly, the girl broke into song. William heard the words but his eyes concentrated on the patched clothes and the thin frame.

Turning to his nurse, William’s eyes filled with tears. "If it wasn’t for that old man and the young girl, I would be dead. Their music kept me alive. I had to see them before I leave for home."

"It’s getting late."

"Let me give them some money."

William walked across, fished some notes out of his pocket, smiled at the girl and put it in her cup

"Mister, I think you’ve made a mistake. You’ve put in too much." She said in a language William had come to understand.

"Can you sing me this song?" William began to hum the tune she had sang on the day he had been saved from death.

"Yes, mister, I know that."

"Please sing it for me and know that however much I give you, it would never be enough."

After the tune had finished, he nodded his appreciation and turned his back on them. Turned his back on the past. Now was the time to face the future.