Another short piece I put together in a few minutes in my creative writing group. Enjoy!
As he got on the plane, he let out a sigh of relief. All the waiting, all the fretting, all the hours spent wondering whether or not he would ever see his homeland again… Finally, he was on his way. At last, he was within reach of returning to his mother country.
He could barely remember now his wife’s face – he knew for certain that their boys, all grown up now, would not recognise his. So long they had prayed for his release, so long that he would forgive them if they admitted that their hope had disappeared at any stage.
The forces of law and order in this barbaric land had labelled him a murderer, a psychopath, a terrorist. He was none of those things. The activists who demonstrated around the world for his release had hailed him as a hero, a visionary, a martyr. He was none of those things. All he was, all he had ever been, was a husband and father who desperately wanted to see his family again.
He smiled ruefully as he snapped the seatbelt buckle, eased back into his seat, and closed his eye.
Free. At long last, he was free.
Solidarity, brothers & sisters…