1914

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The noise reverberated around the house as Mamma bashed at the nails holding the plank of wood to the door.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

‘Why are you doing this, Mamma?’ I asked, perched on the bottom of the stairs.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

‘Go upstairs, Thomas,’ she replied, her voice straining. She had been saying this a lot lately.

Bang. Bang-

‘Where’s Pappa?’ I asked, not moving from my spot. Mother faltered with her hammer, losing her rhythm.

She took one long, deep breath, and then forced a smile at me. ‘He’s gone away for a while, Thomas.’

‘Will I see him soon?’

Before I got an answer, there was another scream from outside. Mamma and I made eye contact before rushing to the last unboarded window. Mamma raced to catch me, to whisk me away, but I was too small, too fast.

Down the road, a man held a woman to the floor, and he, too, was hammering. Red lapped at the long grass as the stone collided with her face.

Mamma pushed me away and I tumbled to the floor. Without spending a moment to check on me, she began to seal up the last window to the outside word.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

In the distance, there was a rumbling. When it grew closer, even Mamma stopped working to pause - and listen.

Soon, I recognised it for what it was - footsteps.

In the minutes that followed, dozens of men dressed in green marched down our street towards the centre of town. In their hands, they gripped long rifles - just like father’s except for the sharp blade at their ends.

Mamma held a hand to her chest. ‘Thank god,’ she whispered.

* * *

2018

The woodland’s undergrowth slowed my progression even further. Between the foliage and the steep incline, every step became more and more exhausting to make. Behind me, beams from the rising sun pierced the treeline. With every minute that passed, the day grew brighter, and the voice grew quieter - until it was little more than a whisper…

I stopped walking. Not only was their little point in continuing my venture - as the voice no longer called out to me - but also my conviction had faded. No more did I feel that finding the source - that seeing it - was of the utmost importance to me.

After a few moments spent still, pondering my next action, I turned on my heels and headed back into town. It was downhill this way, but that didn’t mean it was any easier a journey. The morning dew on the long grass made the slope slippery, and I moved at a slow pace to ensure I remained upright.

As I approached Aunt Mia’s house, I noticed that a light was on in the kitchen. Opening the front door revealed that Mia was already up, about, and preparing breakfast. She stood still, frozen to the spot with surprise, when I entered.

‘...Daniel? Where have you… where have you been?’ she asked, eyes wide.

I shrugged. ‘Just went out for a walk.’

Mia looked me up and down. ‘And why is that?’

‘Because it’s beautiful around here. And I wanted to watch the sun come up,’ I lied. ‘Besides, I couldn’t sleep.’ I hoped that one of these reasons would seem sensible enough to fool her.

Mia nodded, but her brow remained furrowed. As she continued to cook, she gave me the odd look out of the corner of her eyes.

‘I thought we would go visit your grandfather today,’ Mia eventually stated.

‘Yeah, that’d be nice,’ I replied. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘So he says.’

El and Hans soon presented themselves, and groaned when they were told that they were seeing their grandfather today. El quickly explained that this was not because they didn’t want to see him, but because Mia had left out a very vital piece of information when she’d told me of today’s plans. Grandad was soon moving to a care home, and we would be going over to help him pack up his possessions. It was this manual labour to which El and Hans took issue.

* * *

We rang the doorbell at my grandfather’s house and waited for an answer. There was nothing at first, just the sound of the breeze in the trees around us, but then we heard soft footsteps approach.

The door creaked open, and Grandad smiled down at his daughter and grandchildren.

‘Welcome!’ he croaked, ‘Come in, come in, please.’

He waved us inside and immediately set about preparing tea and coffee for his guests. Aunt Mia, annoyed that her father was exerting himself too much, very quickly took over.

We sat and talked for a while, each sipping on our respective drinks, and I brought Grandad Thomas up to speed on everything that had happened since Dad died. Each time his death was mentioned, the conversation grew more and more dour, until Grandad suddenly bolted up from his chair.

‘Oh!’ he exclaimed.

‘Pa, what are you doing now?’ Mia asked, exasperated.

‘Just getting something for my grandson,’ he replied, and then shuffled off into the next room - one that already contained stacks of packed moving boxes. When he came back out again, he clutched in his hands a framed picture, which he gave to me.

It was an old black and white photograph of a young man, who looked-

‘He looks just like your father, doesn’t he?’ Grandad said.

I looked up at him. ‘...Yeah. Who is this?’

‘It’s my father. Don’t they look alike?’

Mia sat forward, and then stood to look at the photograph over my shoulder.

‘This is Grandad Thomas?’ she asked, and then looked to me and the cousins to add, ‘Pa’s Pa was called Thomas too.’

‘Mm-hm,’ Grandad replied.

‘Why have you never showed me this before?’ Mia asked her father.

Grandad shook his head. ‘It’s not important. He’s not important.’

‘He may have been cruel, but he was still your father, Pa.’

In response, Grandad just shook his head a second time, and went to take a seat.

I passed the photograph around to Hans and El, and the conversations quickly moved on, before we eventually dispersed to help with the packing.

As we worked, I took the opportunity to ask Grandad more about the man in the photograph - the one who had such a striking resemblance to my own father.

‘Can I ask, Grandad… why was your father cruel?’

Grandad sighed. ‘I never knew the reason for it. He was always that way.’

‘What about your Mum?’ I asked.

‘I never met her. She died when I was very young. Not long after I was born, I believe. For a long time, it was just me… and him.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I offered.

Grandad chuckled. ‘Don’t worry about it, Daniel. To a man like me, all that happened very literally a lifetime ago.’

We finished up packing up the living room, and I offered to make a start in the study. This offer received a raised eyebrow from Hans.

As soon as I entered the room, I realised why. Old, leather-bound books were piled high around the edges of the room, reaching from floor to ceiling.

‘Ah,’ I said out loud, which made El and Hans giggle in the other room.

Not feeling that I could let down my grandfather, I took a deep breath, and got to work.

Much of the books were in fact old photo albums. Fading, sepia images were lovingly placed on every page, and catalogued almost every moment of my grandfather’s life. In the corner of the room sat an old camera, positioned as though it had an almost religious aura to it - I assumed it was this camera that had taken most of the images I had just skimmed through.

I eventually moved on to piles of smaller books, and found that these, like the photo albums, were similarly thorough in their documentation of my Grandad’s life. I read passages here and there in each of them.

Some were about old friends, those who seemed to have since moved away or… the alternative. Some passages were about things he’d seen. A good chunk of these books seemed devoted to describing the antics of the local pets. I smiled as I read, but tried to focus on the job at hand. I gently closed the journal I was reading, letting the old, soft pages slide across the tips of my fingers, until I held only the leather-bound cover.

Scrawled in the middle of the first page were three words which made my stomach turn: Come and See.