I met her when I was young, we both were; far too young to feel what we felt as deeply and quickly as we did. We were inseparable.
We'd load up my truck and drive into the wilderness together not caring where we ended up, if we got bogged...or if we ever came back. We didn't care as long as we were together. She'd help me hunt, set or break camp or take off her bikini top and run into the creek beckoning me to follow. I'd follow, no matter how cold it was, then we'd wrap ourselves in the same blanket and sit by the fire.
We worked in the same small town, me at the woodyard, her in the florist; she'd always laugh that I smelled like pine trees and saw dust and she smelled like a field of flowers in spring - She wasn't wrong.
I remember the day we met, the lake. She had on a pair of jeans with a perfectly-placed rip in the backside, a light, almost see-through, blouse over her bra and a faded baseball cap on. I pulled up beside her as she walked along the track and asked if she was ok, needed a ride. She gave me a snide answer and kept walking - Another redneck looking to pick her up is what she thought I guess. Right then fate played its hand, she stumbled, fell down, and I was out of my truck quicker than you could say thank goodness for fate!
The rest, well it's history. We fell in love despite her parents thinking I was beneath her, a boy with no future from the wrong side of the tracks, and we said we'd never be apart. Naïve, yes.
When her parents forbade her from seeing me I asked her to run with me.
It took an hour. We packed the truck with a few things and never looked back. I was nineteen and she a year younger. We had nothing, but we had each other; it seemed enough.
I found work felling trees, she worked at a diner part time and each day we'd tighten our belts just a little more to ward off the hunger; we did it together though. It seemed enough, but it wasn't, and that's when I enlisted.
Eighteen months later she bade me farewell and I went to war.
Looking back I remember being a little surprised at how quickly it all happened. It seemed one moment we were laying in the forest, her head on my bare chest, hair haphazardly blowing in the breeze and her small soft fingers tracing patterns on my stomach, the next I was in a cramped C-17 Globemaster heading to the Gulf. I remember being afraid, not for myself, just that I would never see her again. I questioned joining up, but it seemed the right thing to do at the time, and it was a more stable job than I had at the time.
I survived my first deployment despite my unit taking heavy casualties and I returned home. She was there. I went back though - to war - it was my job. I deployed again nine months after returning home that first time, then again the following year. Three deployments and each time I came home she was there, loving, welcoming and understanding. Each time though less of me came home.
I found it difficult to be home; nothing made sense. I found the apathy most difficult; it was like no one knew there was a war, that people died every day, or were terribly injured, maimed and disfigured. They went about their day, went to the shops, football games, the movies and it disgusted me that no one talked about the war.
She'd be there though and that kept me sane when I felt insane.
She never asked about my deployments...Well, there was one time and I was stupid enough to be honest. She was speechless and avoided me for almost a month. I was a killer - was good at it - and that hurt her, made her see me as a different man to the one she loved. We got through it though, stronger. She never asked me again, and I never told.
She loved me, showed me that, and when nothing made sense, when I was lost, she was my compass, a candle in the window; she'd let me range but made sure I knew she was there, that I knew where to find home, and her. I always did.
Ten years passed before I was discharged. I remember that day well. I felt aimless, like I'd been cut adrift to flounder in a vast ocean I didn't know. Society. She was there though, my compass, my anchor.
I didn't know people and didn't like them anymore.
If they hadn't served I couldn't find respect for them. Why not? Are you spineless? Weak? Afraid? We were all afraid, it's not an excuse. It was harsh of me and speaks poorly of my character, but that's who I was right then. I was, different.
She saved me though, helped me re-find myself, and I softened. I returned to the man I'd been, that young kid she'd met and fallen in love with, the man who helped people who could not help themselves, who protected, cared for and supported the weak, infirm, children and the elderly. I was one of the lucky ones who was able to do so, many I served with did not - They are different and most fight still, many capitulate.
We ran again soon after, away from everyone.
We found a small cabin in the foothills not far out of a small logging town. I had to stoke the fire to heat water, the roof leaked no matter how many times I fixed it and in winter we had to wear our coats inside or we'd freeze, but we owned it and had plans to make our dream life there. War seemed a long way off at that point, and she seemed so close.
I got a job overseeing a felling-crew, all veterans so it worked well, they knew how to work. She worked at the local vet clinic which she loved because it involved animals. She'd rub my shoulders and arms after the particularly hard days and I'd hold her close as she cried if she'd had to put an animal down that day. We'd laugh and cry as required and were unbreakable. I broke sometimes I suppose, but she knew how to put me back together again.
We used to head to the coast as much as possible, we knew a spot that was always devoid of others. We loved it there. I'd park my truck right on the beach and she'd strip off and run into the water before I was even out of the truck. I didn't mind. I'd sit in the cab and watch her frolic in the surf, her naked body glistening with moisture. She'd wave to me but I'd just sit and watch and feel so grateful I had her in my life - I don't think I'd be here if not for her.
In the late afternoon we'd make a fire and settle in for the night, beneath a blanket like we did as kids, and talk about the future, getting old together and babies names. We'd do it some day, have children.
Our life was as perfect as we'd hoped it would be. We didn't have very much but we had enough, what we needed. Thinking back now, there's not a single thing I would have changed about us and our lives, but change is inevitable.
I couldn't think straight, or at all. I seemed outside myself like I was was watching an empty husk go through the motions of life.
I watched myself shaking hands, saying thank you, hugging people and trying not to cry at the cemetery. I watched myself struggle to control an anger so powerful I felt I could kill once more, and watched myself drift, aimlessly lost and alone. I watched myself load my rifle and place the muzzle to my forehead, I watched myself cry, and pretend I was ok when people asked. I watched myself pretend to be alive.
The drunk driver ran her off the road and she hit a tree. She awoke, unable to move, but called me on her phone. She told me she loved me, that she would always love me and that I'd be ok. I heard stress in her voice, but didn't know why. She told me to live, and that she'd see me soon, that she would always see me. It was the last words I heard her speak and it was the last time I felt complete.
Sometimes I drive to the coast and park on the sand, in our spot. I stare out to sea and think about life, my life now and the one I lost when she died.
I don't think about killing myself anymore, she'd not want that. I'm lonely though, alone and broken. I think about killing that drunk driver now and then, a local man who I see from time to time. That last is difficult, seeing him and not killing him, but it would not bring her back and I don't want to be that man anyway. Although...I don't really know who I want to be, who I could possibly be, without her here with me. I feel like nothing.
I'm thinking of running but it's difficult. Leaving our cabin, the place we last spent time together, the morning of her wreck, would be difficult. I feel her here sometimes, as I do when I sit in my truck on that beach we used to love so much. I hear her voice, she talks to me. Sometimes I hear her say, run with me. Maybe I'm crazy.
I'm afraid of running alone. I'm afraid of losing that link to her and so I stay. Alone.
[A fiction]
Design and create your ideal life, don't live it by default - Tomorrow isn't promised so be humble and kind
Any image(s) you see in this post are my own
This is beautifully written, my friend.
Hi there you! Nice to hear from you as always.
Thank you for your kind words, taking the time to read this long piece in the first place. I've received some really nice feedback on this one which is humbling and makes me happy at the same time and your simple compliment means a great deal, considering that I feel you are one of the best writers on Hive and I'm a little knucklehead bug in comparison.
A cute knucklehead bug though.
Aw, that's very sweet of you. I'm sorry it has taken me so long to respond to this comment. Big Dog passed on, and it has been a very difficult week. I did so well at first because I was just so relieved he wasn't in pain anymore, but now the grief has caught up.
You are a very cute bug and I am giving your iridescent exoskeleton a friendly pat.
Hey Gin, I'm so sorry to hear that; I know you and Big Dog had so many adventures and losing him will have been (and still is) a terrible moment. I don't really know what to say in a message on Hive, but in person I'd offer you a hug. (Worlds best hugger and all you know.) You know how to reach me if you want to shoot an email and vent. I'm a good listener as well as hugger.
Exoskeleton pat's are awesome, so thank you.
Thanks, he was and always will be the best dog ever. He have adopted another friend. Not the same, but new bonds will be forged, and beginnings are nice even when endings are painful.
I feel that way about my cats when the leave. Each has a very special place and meaning in my heart and memory. I miss Merlin so much every day, but pour my love into Cleo now whilst she is here.
I look forward to hearing about some new adventures if and when you share.
Way to make me tear up on a Monday morning... You truly pushed the feels on this one! I see him packing the car and running into the wilderness anyway, with her ghost beside him or maybe following her ghost into a wild river...
I wrote it to make people feel something and a few have told me they did (on and off Hive) which makes me feel like I did a reasonable job. I write for myself really, and enjoyed this one, the process, although it made me feel things too. I am happy how this one turned out. In my mind the chap finds some peace, happiness even. We'll never know however.
Thanks for taking a read.
I always prefer an open ending, leaving it to the imagination a little. It's really well written and tugs at the old heart strings in an epic way.
You got some good readership on this one - I wrote a story last week the only person that really read and commented was @owasco, who I had to ask to read it, like a big desperate twat :P
Thank you...Ok for a dude who was told by his English teacher in year 12 I was useless and would never amount to anything. I should send it to her...Oh hang on, she's dead.
It's always hit and miss as far as people reading. I guess I shifted my paradigm towards just enjoying the writing and figure if someone reads it it's a bonus. So many skim anyway, make a cursory comment at the end based on the few words they read. I'm ok with it I guess. I had fun. Please send me the links to your fictions @riverflows, I'll read them. (I just get so damned busy I miss things at times.)
and she is so glad you did!!
You really are a good fiction writer, you know. I know this because I am a good fiction reader. I read a lot of fiction.
I use fiction (which I tend to call fluff) to occupy the front of my brain while the back part is processing information. I basically use it the same way I use TV only I'm not a very big fan of having the TV on.
Which is to say that I enjoyed your story-I'm currently reading a non fiction work that I've studied before but have a new task involving the information. So you've helped me process today.
Thank you.
Thanks mate, I tend just to write what I feel mixed with snippets from my life, things I've experienced or come across in some way or another. Sometimes they have a life of their own and go in whatever direction they will, other times I design them to take a particular course. Most of my fictions mean something to me in some way, have significance, and I think it's the reality of that fact that makes them pop a little.
I'm glad you like this one, it was a little sad, to write, but the process was enjoyable and I'm happy with the outcome.
I really appreciate your feedback; you're intelligent, have been around the block a few times and I think have a concept of exactly what I wrote here, and why. Thank you.
I draw on my own life and experiences which I think makes it more real. Writing fiction about things one doesn't understand of know about isn't something I'm really able to do, although I'll still give it a try for the challenge. This story was close to home.
You write a beautiful story of life, love, and death. Taking the reader on an emotional journey with your words. We experience love and how it feels, war and its tragedies and wounds, loss and being lost and lonely all in one piece.
Whether it is a good thing or a bad thing, by staying alone, she will always stay with him.
Thank you for sharing that touching story with The Ink Well. We appreciate engagement in our community by reading/commenting on other writers' stories.
Thanks for your kind comments, I write from my heart and from a place deep inside that most will never know exists, even when I write fiction. I appreciate you reading and replying.
Twists and turns in life, what an amazing story of life, love, loss a person in turmoil yet not.
@tipu curate
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Thank you Joan, I hope it reads ok...I guess I get so wrapped up in the stories sometimes It's difficult to tell if it actually reads well. :)
Reads well, flowing through young love with passionate plans, how change effects one, be it good or bad, conflicting situations alter reality of people over period of time. Good read!
I'm pleased you think so and hope others do also, although I understand it's long and many won't take the time to read. 😊
Looking into the psyche of young men conscripted to army, some may relish others come back completely different. Definitely not too long, able to read through to get the full picture. 😅
What a tragedy 😢 He deserved to live out the rest of his days happy, after what he went through!
Amazing work on this one, by the way...
It would have been nice to see them happy in the end but life isn't like that sometimes. Maybe he meets someone who brings him out if his misery in the future huh? I hope so.
Thanks for your kind words.
I hope he does meet someone awesome :) ... Good guys need a good break in life.
Indeed. Soldiers give a lot, more than a civilian will ever understand and to then suffer this tragedy...Maybe I'll write him a new future, he deserves it.
Wonderful to see you in The Ink Well, @galenkp! What a beautiful and tragic story. So believable too. My heart broke for the narrator, and all that he endures and his terrible loss. I hope we'll see more work from you in The Ink Well community.
Be sure to check out the work of other writers in The Ink Well. We ask everyone who posts in the community to read and comment on the work of at least two other writers in The Ink Well. Thank you! 😊
Thanks for your kind words on my fictional writing, I appreciate it. All fiction contains elements of truth, at least mine does, so I'm glad it felt believable to you.
Yes, I completely agree, @galenkp. Whether directly derived from our life experiences or just inspired by them in some way, fiction contains elements of truth — and writing can help to process and make sense of some of the most difficult things we have faced, as well.
That was actually very touching. I almost felt every single emotion the narrator was going through, and as heart broken as he was with that phone call.
Nicely written @galenkp.
Thank you, I'm a bit of a knucklehead but sometimes I manage to string a few words together that make sense. I'm pleased the emotion came through as that's what I was looking for.
I was typing this:
And then I saw your reply to Theinkwell acc..
So yeah, no need to say anything further. Thanks for the read, I really enjoyed it.
And welcome (or welcome back, I'm not sure) to The Ink Well.
I'm glad you enjoyed it.
I think this is my first post in this community, in the (close to) five years I've been around, although I can't be sure. I post daily so maybe I've put one in before.
Thanks for your kind comments, I think you understand that fiction isn't fabrication. I've lived a life, and draw on it for my fictional writing often.
whoa, what an amazing superb story! Loved the twist and my favourite part was when he chose to stay alive despite being alone.
Thanks, I'm glad it reads well and that you related to some parts of it.
True love. This is very rare. Like an actual fiction. My first (and so far only) love was in the middle school. One of my classmates. Unfortunately it was one-sided (unrequited). I still think about her. And probably I will think about her until the rest of my physical earthly life. True love is literally unforgettable, which is good, if it is mutual. Unfortunately not in my case. So love can be both the best and the worst thing too in the world.
This story is really touching. Fortunately/luckily I have not had to deal with parents forbidding neither her, nor me from seeing each other, nor to anyone having to go to war.
Have a nice day. All the best. Greetings and much love from Hungary.
Thanks for your comment, I had a nice time writing this, enjoyable, and I'm pleased you thought well of it.
I'm sorry to hear about your unrequited love however feel confident that there's someone else out there that would deserve the same emotion. I hope you find her.
A beautiful story and nice events. See it in a dazzling way. Mina does not get bored of reading it. She wants more. Thank you for your participation in these events.
Thanks for looking at my post and taking the time to make a comment, I appreciate it.
no need bro
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This was a romantic and interesting story.
Thank you.
Thank you, I appreciate it. Life doesn't always have happy endings I suppose although I write it to indicate that the couple had a happy life together. I suppose I wanted to angle at the fact that life is unpredictable, that sometimes bad things happen, and that we never really know how long we have or when massive change will happen, outside of our control.