The Hanging of Hope
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Dear Author,
He is standing at the barn doors, watching the quiet fields and the sheep on the hills. He rarely speaks apart from a curt "thanks" for the cold water I bring him when the sun is at its highest, and the fresh bread I share in the evenings, and the mugs of weak tea, eeked out of my dwindling supply of precious leaves. Not that he doesn't understand English, but he is a proud man, despite his status of prisoner-of-war, and he knows what is coming: his repatriation to Russia.
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I want to tell him he can stay here, that he will be safe, but I can't, and he returns to his sweeping. The floor of my barn is cleaner than I can remember. And I have lived here all my life, as son and brother and then owner, too old to fight. A solitary life from choice.
I wonder about him. And he glances over at me and for a moment I see the look in his eyes. His understanding of who, and what I am.
In three days they will be coming for him.
Photo Description:
A blond man stands behind a barbed-wire fence and looks at something in the distance. He looks to be in his forties and wears a dirt brown uniform, solemn-faced. Behind him are two blurred, grey buildings.
This story was written as a part of the M/M Romance Group's"Love is an Open Road" event. Group members were asked to write a story prompt inspired by a photo of their choice. Authors of the group selected a photo and prompt that spoke to them and wrote a short story.
This story may contain sexually explicit content and is intended for adult readers. It may contain content that is disagreeable or distressing to some readers. The M/M Romance Group strongly recommends that each reader review the General Information section before each story for story tags as well as for content warnings.
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