Misery Continued

“Look at this world girl,” Iona gazed out the open doorway of the stable. Snow flakes were falling from the sky like weightless feathers, blanketing the concrete. “Without my son, this world is nothing more than a cold and hideous wasteland.”



A memory suddenly stirred behind Iona’s worn out face. A long since locked away thought crept out of its dark home, and a gentle smile came to Iona’s face, but upon seeing the darkness, the memory crept back into the warmth of its hideaway and then, the smile left his face. His glazed eyes then released a single tear drop. The small drop of liquid was warm and it rolled out of the corner of Iona’s eye and embarked on its downward journey, making its way over, around, down and under every wrinkle and scar on his face before finally falling, cold from the frigid air, to the hay below.



         “Why’d he have to go off and leave me all alone?” The Mare stopped munching and stared into Iona’s eyes as if she felt his pain.



“Why’d he have to go off and die?” he paused and closed his eyelids to thaw the frozen tears from his eyes.



“That boy was so good… He would have made a fine cabman…” Iona felt the misery tugging at his heart, begging for him to cry, and he knew it was only a matter of time before he did. He quickly threw his mind back to his younger days, back to the farm.



“Do you remember the country, girl?” he asked.



“Do you remember when I first took you home? Oh, I had never seen a more beautiful mare in all my life. You have been so good to me, old friend,” he gave her a pat.



“Do you remember the valley? Oh I’m sure you do. We used to travel to town every Sunday to the market, the three of us, and Ivan always wanted to ride on your back.” The Mare let out a muffled sigh, possibly lost herself in the memory of sunnier years.



“Those days seem so far away now, like an old dream.”



A strong gust of wind howled past the open doorway. A brown and brittle leaf, ragged from its glorious months of spring and summer, rattled miserably into the opening. It sung its life’s song as it scraped along the splintered wooden floor, and finally it came to a rest in the straw between Iona and the Mare.





Try as he had to push the thought of his son’s death from his mind, the pictures and misery they carried were far too heavy. His heart couldn’t take anymore.





“I blame nobody but myself. Why did I bring us to this god-forsaken city,” Iona’s head sunk.

“But we were so poor girl. What else was I supposed to do? I wasn’t even making enough to feed my children, let alone you. I had no other choice.” A look of anger came to his face. “I should have held my pride and moved in with Anisya and her husband, or at least left Ivan to her care. I was never a man to admit defeat. I wasn’t raised that way. But a boy should have a woman in his life.”



Iona broke into tears, wrapped his arms tightly around the Mares neck, and buried his face in her warm coat. The warmth and safety of her fur brought to Iona’s head a distant childhood memory. Iona thought of his mother and the protection he once felt, and the unquestionable love he saw in her eyes, and of her tiny lips and the content little smile that never seemed to leave them. He remembered how he used to fall peacefully asleep in her arms and how in those moments, he never had to wonder if everything was going to be okay. Iona missed her, and he knew that everything was not going to be alright.





Now Iona’s heart was pouring out in muffled wales. “What am I supposed to do now… Why did he leave me… Why did God take my boy from me… Now who will listen… Who will I talk to…Nobody cares for old relics like me...” Iona forced himself to leave the nest of the mare’s coat. For a second he still felt warmth, but the bitter air quickly put an end to that.



“Look at this city. It’s all stone. Hard, strong, cold. There’s no love here, and certainly no room for plagues like us, girl”



The look in the Mares eyes could have said a million words, but there was no need for her to speak- his words spoke for both of them. “Our time is up now girl. Let us leave this world that no longer has any use for us.”



A calm expression came to the Mares face. She bent her knees to lie in the hay, and nuzzle her head against Iona’s leg. 



Iona dug his arm deep into the bed of hay, felt around for a second or two, and came up with a large black revolver. His thumb quivered as he cocked the hammer back. With his other hand, he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an old photograph of his family standing with the valley at there backs. Ivan was gripping Ionas leg and his eyes told the story of a boy without a care.



The two shots were loud enough to awaken a few men sleeping in the open room next door.



“What was that?” one man asked.



“Who cares.” said the other before both fell peacefully back to sleep.