A Sign of Your Love

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This just came to me when I was talking to a friend. This story is about a girl(you) whose love has just been enrolled into an army and after a long ten years, he finally returns.
Thank you for taking the time to read my works.

Also, i would gladly accept criticism, what you thought could improve, and what you liked.
-Winter

Submitted: February 02, 2015

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Submitted: February 02, 2015

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A sign of your love

This story begins in a period of discord, of war, but instead of an original character introduced, the protagonist is you. Why? Because in this story, I wish for you to think at the ending about your feelings instead of a made-up person. So precede my reader, step into the world of a girl whose lover has just been enrolled into the army.

See you soon.

Those were the words that slipped out of his mouth. Not ‘Good bye’ or ‘Farewell’ because you both believed even though he was heading to a war zone, he would one day return to you. It was just how much you believed in your love.

He left a few meters, and then yelled something over the roar of the summer gust. Then, he turned, jacket fluttering in the wind, his silver cross necklace bounced on his chest and you watched him walk away.

Ignoring the nagging sensation in your chest that this might be the last time you see him, you turn away, not bothering to finish watching his figure disappear. Oh, how you would regret that in the future, for the next few years, the house would be quiet.

His cheerful voice no longer rang through the narrow halls. The booming laughter had left with him as well and you could only hope he was using it to cheer up his fellow comrades in the despairing situation. It had already been half-a-year and it just wasn’t enough to hear his voice over the phone. You weren’t able to see his face, to know whether he was really smiling or if he was faking it for your sake. It burned when you wondered whether he was alright because the thought of him brought the fact that your love may be dead.

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“It’s finally over!” the jubilant voices cheered in the streets. The war was finally over; a soft smile graced your lips. Gently pressing your fingertips to the window glass, you watched as the children pranced around the streets like they did ten years ago before the guns were snatched out of storage and your country thrown into havoc. You were lucky that the war had not reached where you lived. But since the men and women had come home, there was no sign of him.

You turned away again and stared at the pictures on the wall. The only remains of him you had left. He was gone. You had to accept it. Stretching a trembling finger, you traced the couple as you remembered when the two of you were still new lovers. How awkward the first date was before the two of you slowly warmed up to the idea that you were dating. The first fight was terrible just like everybody said it would be. The two of you had tried to avoid it, but it was inevitable. Then, with a remembering smile, you remembered how you had found him crying on a park bench in the rain. The roles were completely reversed as you had taken him into your arms. Oh, the laugh you had when then storm passed and you were pulled back together by the fateful red string only to have the moment by your sneeze. How he had kissed you to make you feel better and then exploded into a series of apologies until you kissed him back, then pranced away giggling while he stood there still trying to comprehend what had just happened.

The hand slid down to your chest where you clutched the engagement ring. Yes, he had proposed to you a few weeks before the war. Then, it happened, the war that ripped him away from you.  

As you stood there thinking, the doorbell rang. Glancing at the door, you braced yourself for surely it was the messenger holding the fate of your beloved. As you opened the door, you started to greet the person before realizing there was no one there. Then, a pressure gently slammed into the back of your knees. Falling backward, you cried out wondering if it was a kidnapper. But would a kidnapper be so timid in his attack?

Then as you caught a flash of silver gleaming on the person’s chest, the tears just wouldn’t, they just wouldn’t stop.

“I’m home.”

And he was alive. He fought for ten long long years to return to you.  

All because he loved you.

 

 


© Copyright 2018 Winterspring. All rights reserved.

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