The Invisible Cloak
A short story on survival
The Internet has been down for the last few days. Unable to watch cartoons, little Hanna pulls her mother’s blanket over her head and ambles around the room. Its helm billowing with the autumn wind. Her mother Sofia glances away from the loom and says, “What are you today?”
“Today I am Harry Potter and this is my cloak of Invisibility”, Hanna babbles.
Sofia chuckles at the playfulness of her little daughter. It’s amazing how a four-year-old can dream of hundreds of different things with a mere blanket. One day, she is Superman with the blanket tied to her neck, the other day she becomes Jasmin from the Arabian Nights, and the blanket becomes the flying carpet. And today, she is Harry Potter with his invisible cloak.
Intrigued by her daughter’s imagination, Sofia ruminates about her own childhood. Wandering across the grassy land of Sheshory village in the Carpathian Mountains, and listening to folk music all day long until her mother called for supper. Sometimes, she used to run behind the woolly herd of sheep with a small blanket waving at them. Wind and snow didn’t affect her as she chased the clouds that drifted over the valleys. And in those valleys, she first heard of the sound of Sopilka, a flute carved out of elderberry. The sound of that divine melody felt like honey to her ears.
To this date, she remembers the tune and mumbles while weaving in her loom. To this date, she remembers the day when she first met her husband.
Hanna saunters across the room, completely wrapped in that blanket when she accidentally runs into her father, Petro.
“Can you see me, papa?”, she asks in that same cheerful manner.
Sofia quickly mimes Petro with the details for him to play along. “No!, where are you, my little princes?”
The child breaks into laughter knowing she has successfully fooled her parents. With a quick kiss to her father, she escapes the room and plays outside.
“I made Zeleny Borsch, your favourite. Let me heat it for you”, Sofia is about to get up when Petro stops her in between. His eyes are wary, face devoid of colour.
“What happened?”, Sofia checks his forehead and cheeks. “Are you feeling all right?”
Petro shakes his head and lets out a troubled breath.
“There is war on the horizon. The news is, that they have reached Kharkiv. Any day, our neighbourhood will be flooded with bombs and army”, his voice trembles.
Sofia holds him against her bosom, asking him not to worry. But the clouds have changed their colour. All the radio station and television is flooded with news of the invasion. It’s no longer a mere gossip.
“It’s a mistake to come here”, Petro cries. “The gods have punished us for leaving our ancestral land. But the allure was too great, don’t you think Sofia?”
Sofia knows her husband well. Even though he was born into a Hutsul family, he never liked the loom. Instead, his proclivity was always towards the Sopilka. Weaving is in his blood, but with notes and words, not with wool like her. That’s why when an opportunity presented itself to work for this musical group in Kharkiv, he didn’t dither.
However, Sofia followed her ancestral trade. Even in the city, she managed to run a small business by weaving intricate designs on blankets, shrouds, and rugs. Though her customer base is small, they are making a good living.
“We have to leave Sofia. There is no other way”, Petro’s voice trembles.
“And go where? This is our home. Our soldiers will defend us”, Sofia’s face straightens.
“How many families can they defend? We cannot risk it”, Petro insists.
Sofia rubs her dry hands over her face and stares at Petro. The Carpathian mountains are far from here. Going there will take at least a day by car. But what about all their furniture and utensils? Migrating to someplace is never easy. She has a cupboard full of blankets and rugs. What will she do with them? This entire family cannot be moved by a car. But Petro is right. They cannot risk it any longer.
“When do you think we can leave?”, Sofia asks.
“By two days. Hoping our soldiers could contain the enemy within two days”.
Sofia nods. She stares at the whole house for a moment and says reluctantly, “Better we start packing”.
At night they made plans on which items to take and which to leave. Sofia’s heart is set on the loom, but the car isn’t big enough. It only has space for the essentials.
The blankets, utensils, toys, and other items are stored in a locked cupboard. Within a short span, the family worked hard to upturn their entire house.
The clock strikes ten. Little Hanna is already asleep. Sofia and Petro are sitting at their dining table, facing each other and planning their journey west. They spread a map on the table and put markers for their designated stops. Suddenly, the power turns off.
A haunting darkness has shrouded their entire house. Sofia grabs Paolo’s hand in desperation. Both of them can feel the trepidation in each other. “What’s happening ?”, Sofia’s voice quavers.
But Petro knows this is not the time to panic. He lights a candle and tiptoes to the window overlooking the main road. He spends a few moments adjusting his eyes to this murky darkness. And when the vision becomes clear, his eyes widen with disbelief.
Enemy at the door.
And before Sofia could ask, a woman’s wail pierces the stillness of the air. Followed by a series of gunshots, and then a loud bang.
Sofia sees the flicker of light smearing her husband’s face through the window. It seems the outside horror has frozen him. His gaze fixated through the window like he was watching a movie.
“Get down, Petro!”, Sofia shrieks.
But Petro couldn’t move. She dashes near him and with a quick pull, yanks him down.
“What were you thinking?”, Sofia scoffs at him.
Petro couldn’t speak for a second. The prospect of running seems far-fetched at this moment. It’s too late. They are already here. Whatever, dreams he had of moving to the mountain have evaporated. He takes a quick breath and says, “Run, Sofia. The soldiers are here.”
The neighbourhood has broken into a chaotic din. Now and then, bouts of screams and bullet sounds fill the air. And in this chaos, Hanna comes rubbing her eyes.
“Mama, what’s happening?”
The house shakes violently from a grenade dropped nearby. Sofia runs to grab Hanna when a bullet makes a gaping hole in their door. Both mother and child shudder in fear. Death has knocked on their door for the first time, and the family has no idea how to evade it.
“Is this it?”, Sofia asks Petro. A tear drop rolls down her cheek.
Petro didn’t say anything. He rubs his hand over her hair and then gazes at Hanna. When he first saw her after her birth, he promised himself that no matter what, he will always protect her. Always keep her from harm.
“Baby, where is your cloak of invisibility?”, Petro asks.
Hanna rubs her eyes and says, “Over there”. Her heart is still untouched by the impending grief.
“Let’s play hide and seek. Okay? You become invisible and we will try to find you. But there is one rule. You cannot move, okay?”
Hanna blinks.
“Okay? Don’t move. If you move, the cloak of invisibility will not work and the game will be over. Do you want that?”
Hanna shakes her head and Sofia hides her tears. Even amid impending death, this innocuous angel is still living in her world, a world full of magic and hope.
“Good”, Sofia says with a wet voice and covers her with the blanket. Their hearts are beating synchronously with the growing sound of footsteps. They don’t have a single moment to waste. The game must begin now. The game of life and death. Otherwise, there will be no angels, there will be no hope. And all that is pure and lively will be burned and buried in mounds of hatred.
“Quick. Hide!”, Petro says.
Hanna runs inside the cupboard gleefully. She hears a lot of footsteps searching for her. A lot of noise in the houses. Something must be happening outside. But she dare not move or the cloak of invisibility will not work.
