A/N: So, this started as a creative writing contest entry, but I didn't feel like paying to join a website I might only use once. So, here we are, I figured where else to share my little short story.

The prompt for this story was to include a frozen pond, that was the only rule. So I set my backdrop to the First Anglo-Dutch War between 1652-1654. Does not focus too much on the war itself, but the perspective of a woman who becomes a widow during it.


She hated winter, it was cold and made everything feel desolate. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she stared out over the glassy, ice-covered pond behind her house. In the spring and summer, this was her safe place where she could watch the fish beneath the surface chasing one another. However, in the winter the frozen pond just seemed to mock her and her pain. It had been a year to the day when a soldier returning from the sea-faring battles knocked on her door and informed her of her husband's death. She remembered that day clearly for that was the day her life lost all its joy.

She was standing in front of the kitchen hearth stirring the stew her cook had started for the family. The smell of fresh baking bread mixing with the aroma of the beef and potato stew. The room was calm and peaceful much like her favorite spot down by the pond. However, the calm and peace were soon shattered as she listened to the quick footsteps coming down the hallway. A maid rushed through the door as she looked up from the stew pot.

"Madam, there is a soldier at the door asking for you, they say they must speak to you immediately."

She set down the ladle and removed her apron before slowly making her way down the hallway to meet her guest. As the front door came into view the butler moved towards her and informed her that he had asked the gentleman to wait in the parlor to get him out of the bitter cold. She nodded her understanding then changed her course to the room off to the left of the foyer. She could see the young man pacing the room while waiting for her to arrive. His pacing made her nervous, and she could feel her hands beginning to shake. As she entered the room the man's eyes turned to her, they held sympathy.

"Good evening, sir, my maid says you have urgent business with me? Has William been injured?"

"Madam, I'm very sorry to have to inform you that Lieutenant Barnum was killed during the battle at Dungeness fourteen days ago."

Her knees felt weak as she moved to a chair, she was not inclined to faint to the floor in front of this stranger, but she could no longer hold herself up. The soldier made to move and help her, but she held up a hand to stay him. Her mind was a jumble as she tried to form a coherent question. After a few moments, only one word managed to slip from her lips.

"H..How?"

"Cannon malfunction and an enemy cannonball blasting into the same area he and the other soldiers were trying to repair the cannon. We were barely able to keep our ship afloat afterward." She could feel his eyes watching her as she buried her face in her hands. "I'm deeply sorry for your loss, the Lieutenant was an honorable man, and I was fortunate to get to serve under him.

She could not bring herself to thank him for his kind words regarding her husband. She listened to the sound of his boots moving to the door before pausing to give his apologies again, then he was gone. She had no idea how she would tell her children; their son was fifteen and already prepared to join his father in battle come his sixteenth birthday. Her husband had thought the war with the Dutch would be over by then and his son would have to entertain a different profession. She did not know if the news of his father's death would dissuade him or spur him further.

Yes, the winter mocked her pain, in her hand, she held a letter from her only son in her trembling hand. Its contents read:

'My dearest Mother,

I know you do not wish it of me, but as I am now sixteen

and per my agreement with Father, I am leaving Rochester

for London to enlist. I will send word of my post once I am

assigned.

I only wish to serve my country and make Father proud

by helping us win the war.

All my love, your son,

William Barnum Jr.

She crumpled the note and threw it upon the frozen surface of the pond.

It would not be until May of 1654 before she would see her son again. A little worse wear with the loss of an eye and a crippled leg, but alive. News from London had announced the end of the war in April, but no word of her son until he came to stand beside her at the water's edge.

The End.