Love in Wartime

I began working on this in the spur of the moment while I was reading. I literally just jotted all this down. I will go over it later to check for mistakes and make edits. For now, enjoy. Any feedback is welcomed.

It's a story of two kids separated by war. Pretty simple, ultra cliche, but I like the idea.


1. Love and Separation

When he was young, he met his true love and they lived together, as all children do in the idyllic. When they were together, as they very seldom were ever apart, even on a cloudy day, the sun shone down on their little haven alone. In all of human history there has never been such a pure love and I doubt it shall ever return to this world. You see most people spend their lives searching for their “soulmate” if you’d like to call it that, and by the time they do they’re so jaded by the world that soulmate or not things tend to fall apart or they give up searching entirely and settle for love in place of love. But these two were lucky, they were born and raised not 3 blocks from each other. But luck is a fickle beast for what it gives so generously, it too eagerly devourers. Luck itself feeds off pain, but that is a story for another day….


The two of them grew up together, inseparable. Same elementary, same junior high, and the same high school. They didn’t have much close friends, though everyone liked them and was surely interested in them, people always felt a coldness emanating from them when they spoke. People always, deep down, felt as though they were wasting these two’s time. They were too elegant, too smart, and certainly too much in love with each other to need the company of anyone else. What a wonder these two could have created for the world had they been allowed to stay together, I often wonder that.


Time wore on and the boy was accepted to a college in the big city! She was also accepted, scholarship and all, but her parents flatly refused. You don’t need to go. What good’ll it do ya. You can stay here and make your life and then he’ll come back, they said. College, much less the big city, was no place for a sweet young girl is what they were really trying to say. They were well-intentioned people, if not a bit short sighted. So, she asked him to stay. He refused. And that was the end of it. They’d often spoken of their dreams and while she couldn’t go and further in pursuit of her own, she refused to be the reason he never made his. Hey, maybe some time apart’ll do us some good anyway, he said with a smile. Her lips curled, you mean it’ll do me some good to finally be rid of a problem as big as you. One last night of sating their brutal appetites, one last embrace, one last kiss and in the morning he was gone.


They wrote to each other constantly. They were constantly up to date on each others’ happenings. With her help, her father’s business really took off, she hoped their small town shop could really spread. She urged him to look around in stores, they’d be there soon she swore. He for all his charm and wits managed to fall in with the right crowd, and with just enough effort turned towards studies, he set himself up to move right along, the right path. I’ll be home soon, he always told her. What beautiful dreams they had then.


But the tides of war were upon the nation. The leader of some far off country was amassing troops at the border a neighboring nation to its the west. The world watched in silence, but for weeks nothing happened. Just a show of force most agreed. Lives returned to normal, how easily distracted people are. Then on June 4th artillery shells were heard ringing throughout the continent. The orchestra of war had struck up like a gale wind at sea and a mighty song began to play. The world, distracted and complacent, let the “show of force” disguise troop movements to the south. In no time two nations had fallen and the peaceful home of these two young lovers would soon be under a very direct threat.


Soon the entire world was dancing to the tune of gunfire and bombs. Death’s perfume pervaded the air. All men to arms! All men to arms to fight and to die for the motherland! To arms! To arms to destroy the Black Death and all her companions! Countless men and innocents lost their lives following that war cry. I’m sure even death was in over its head in those days. By the third year the death toll ceased to rise. Not because the war had been won, but people stopped counting.


For their roles, the two lovers did their part. She became a member of the ambulate corps. She stayed mostly in the western and south western theatre attending to those pulled back from the frontline to the rear line. The world was boiling over in flame and they were in the thick of it. Each new arrival brought ever worsening tidings from the front. The gates of hell have broken and its host fights among the enemy’s troop! The Black death approaches. The Devil’s on the battlefield. No matter how dark and demented their news, she made a point of asking about him. Had anyone seen him, had anyone heard of him, where was he, is he alive? “Give up”, one boy had told her, his voice escaping only in hoarse whispers, “he’s probably already been devoured by the hounds of the Black Death.”


She was horrified and sickened by the sight of the young men brought before her. She pitied them. For every one of them that arrived at the rear, ten more had died in their stead. And what lives would these boys lead after all this? They were broken, screaming of devils in the night. These boys were spit up from the very bowels of satan, but it couldn’t compare to the war and torture raging inside of her own heart. The only word of him that she’d manage to hear was that he was sent to the Belerian front. She never met anyone from the Belerian front. Because no men ever came back from the Belerian front.

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